PATRIE! 


VlCTORIEN    SaRDOU 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFOR.NIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

MRS.  WILLIAM  ASHWORTH 


'(jiy;--dbriiuu^rf4z 


PATRIE  ! 


VOLUME  IX 

The  Drama  League  Series  of  Plays 


VOLUMES  IN 
THE  DRAMA  LEAGUE  SERIES  OF  PLAYS 


I. — Kindling By  Charles  Kenyan 

II. — A  Thousand  Years  Ago    .       By  Percy  MacKaye 

III. — The  Great  Galeoto     .     .        By  Jose  Echegaray 

IV. — The  Sunken  Bell    .     .     By  Gerhart  Havptmann 

V. — Mary  Goes  First     .     .     By  Henry  Arthur  Jones 

VI. — Her  Husband's  Wife  .     .     .    By  A.  E.  Thomas 

Vn. — Change By  J.  0.  Francis 

Vin. — Marta  of  the  Lowlands  .     .    By  Angel  Guimerd 

IX. — Patrie! By  Victorien  Sardou 

X. — The  Thief By  Henry  Bernstein 

Other  Volumes  in  Preparation 


VICTORIEN  SARDOU 


PATRIE! 

An  Historical  Drama  in  Five  Acts 
(Eight  Scenes) 


BY 

VICTORIEN  SARDOU 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY 

BARRETT  H.  CLARK 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR 


Garden  City  New  York 

DOUBLEDAY.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1915 


Copyright,  1915,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,    PaGE   &   CoMPANY 


In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the  reading 
public  only,  and  no  performances  of  it  may  be  given. 
Any  piracy  or  infringement  will  be  prosecuted  in  accord- 
ance with  the  penalties  provided  by  the  United  States 
Statutes : 

Sec.  4S66. — Any  person  publicly  performing  or  representing 
any  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  for  which  copyright  has 
been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor  of  the  said 
dramatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his  heirs  or  assigns,  shall  be 
liable  for  damages  therefor,  such  damages  in  all  cases  to  be 
at  such  sum,  not  less  than  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and 
fifty  dollars  for  every  subsequent  performance,  as  to  the  Court 
shall  appear  to  be  just.  If  the  unlawful  performance  and  repre- 
sentation be  wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person  or  persons  shall 
be  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  conviction  be  imprisoned 
for  a  period  not  exceeding  one  year. — U.  S.  Revised  Statutes, 
Title  60,  Chap.  3. 


2t^  2 
P28E 


UNIVERS'  '-Y  r-T?  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA 


TO 

CLAYTON  HAMILTON 

WITH    THE   GRATITUDE   OF   THE   TRANSLATOR 


INTRODUCTION 

Sardou  is  probably  the  oftenest  referred  to  and 
least  read  of  any  dramatist  of  modern  times.  His 
name,  together  with  the  clever  noun  invented  by 
Bernard  Shaw,  is  constantly  used  as  a  term  of  re- 
proach; the  phrase  "well-made  play"  is  usually  em- 
ployed in  a  derogatory  sense,  as  if  a  well-constructed 
play  were  something  to  be  avoided.  This  state  of 
affairs  would  not  be  so  regrettable  were  it  not  that 
the  plays  of  Sardou  and  his  master  Scribe  are,  with 
very  few  exceptions,  inaccessible  to  English  readers. 
Even  Shaw  based  some  of  his  most  mordant  and 
damning  remarks  about  "  Sardoodledom  "  upon  Eng- 
lish adaptations,  and  confesses  that  he  never  read 
"Fedora"  in  the  original.  "Gismonda,"  the  other 
play  he  saw  at  the  same  time  with  the  English  version 
of  "Fedora,"  has  never  been  published  in  French. 
When  a  critic  of  Shaw's  standing  says,  "Of  course 
I  was  not  altogether  new  to  it,  since  I  had  seen 
'Diplomacy  Dora,'  and  'Theodora,'  and  'La  Tos- 
cadora,'  and  the  other  machine  dolls  from  the  same 
[  vii  ] 


INTRODUCTION 


firm,"  he  stands  convicted  of  arguing  from  insuf- 
ficient premises,  for  "Diplomacy"  is  an  adaptation, 
while  "Theodora,"  like  "Gismonda,"  is  as  yet  in 
manuscript.  "La  Tosca"  was  not  published  until 
some  years  after  the  appearance  of  Shaw's  article. 

If  Sardou  is  to  be  justly  estimated,  he  must  be 
read,  and  if  critics  are  to  link  the  names  of  Sardou 
and  Scribe  together  as  nefarious  purveyors  of  "well- 
made  plays,"  they  should  at  least  not  do  so  on  the 
authority  of  former  critics,  many  of  whom  have 
either  not  read  the  plays  of  the  dramatists  in  ques- 
tion, or  have  only  a  superficial  acquaintance  with 
their  works  in  the  original. 

The  present  translation  of  "Patrie!"  is  so  far  as  I 
am  aware  the  first  Sardou  play  in  English  which 
follows  the  original  text  line  for  line.  There  are 
numerous  adaptations,  to  some  of  which  the  name 
of  the  author  is  added,  but  far  oftener  bearing  only 
the  name  of  the  adapter.  It  is,  therefore,  with  the 
hope  that  this  much-maligned  dramatist  may  be 
sympathetically,  or  at  least  intelligently,  read  and 
calmly  judged  that  this  famous  play  has  been  in- 
cluded in  "The  Drama  League  Series." 

Victorien  Sardou  was  born  in  Paris  on  September 
7,  1831.  His  early  years  were  spent  in  the  neigh- 
[  viii  ] 


INTRODUCTION 


borhood  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  not  far 
from  the  Place  de  la  Bastille.  He  was  educated  at 
the  College  Henri  IV,  from  which  he  was  graduated 
in  1852,  after  a  career  which  was  in  no  manner  of 
speaking  brilliant.  The  youth  had  been  an  in- 
terested spectator  of  the  stormy  days  of  '48,  and 
it  is  beyond  doubt  that  these  early  impressions  were 
all  carefully  noted  and  used  in  later  years.  After 
his  graduation  he  wished  to  enter  the  field  of  litera- 
ture, for  which  he  had  previously  shown  some  pre- 
dilection, but  his  practical-minded  father  insisted 
upon  a  more  lucrative  pursuit.  The  young  man 
chose  medicine.  After  a  perfunctorily  attended 
course  of  study  at  the  hospital,  Sardou  was  left 
alone  in  Paris,  as  his  father,  under  the  stress  of  finan- 
cial difficulties,  left  the  north  for  his  native  home 
in  the  Midi.  Victorien  then  led  the  life  of  poor 
students,  sharing  his  attic,  trying  to  write,  and 
gaining  an  insight  into  the  seamy  side  of  the  "Vie 
de  Boheme."  The  melodramatic  story  is  told*  that 
Sardou  was  walking  the  quays  one  night,  bent  on 
suicide,   and   met  a  water-carrier  standing   in   the 


*  In  Jerome  A.  Hart's  "Sardou  and  the  Sardou  Plays"  (Lip- 
pincott),  the  most  complete  and  exhaustive  study  of  Sardou 
which  has  yet  appeared. 


INTRODUCTION 


doorway  of  an  unfinished  building.  "  The  water- 
carrier  audibly  remarked :  '  Ah,  mon  ami,  you  don't 
know  when  you  are  well  off.'  The  words  were 
scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  when  a  block  of  granite 
fell  with  a  crash  and  killed  him.  Even  then  Sardou 
was  superstitious,  and,  believing  from  this  accident 
that  he  had  yet  room  to  hope,  went  home,  and  again 
took  up  his  pen." 

The  result  was  a  number  of  plays,  written  in 
various  styles,  and  showing  the  influence  of  numer- 
ous masters.  One  of  these,  "La  Reine  Ulfra,"  he 
offered  to  Rachel,  who  refused  it.  However,  Mile 
Desfosses,  the  rival  of  the  celebrated  tragedienne, 
accepted  the  play,  and  failed  dismally.  The  same 
fate  awaited  the  second  play,  "La  Taverne  des 
Etudiants,"  which  was  performed  at  the  Odeon  in 
1854.  Then  followed  a  period  of  disappointment: 
plays  were  peddled  from  theatre  to  theatre,  and 
collaborators  proved  treacherous.  But  three  years 
later  he  met  the  woman  who  became  his  wife  in 
1858.  She  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  a  personal 
friend  of  the  famous  Mile  Dejazet. 

Through  Dejazet  the  young  dramatist  achieved 
his  first  success:  "Les  Premieres  Armes  de  Figaro" 
was  produced  at  Dejazet's  theatre  in  1859.  As  yet 
[x] 


INTRODUCTION 


Sardou  was  only  trying  his  wings.  His  early  plays 
were  verse  tragedies  and  comedies,  even  his  suc- 
cess at  the  Theatre  Dejazet,  were  imitative  works, 
written  for  the  most  part  while  he  was  making  a  close 
study  of  the  works  of  Scribe.  In  1860  his  first  ac- 
knowledged masterpiece,  "Les  Pattes  de  Mouche, " 
met  with  the  recognition  it  deserved  at  the  Gym- 
nase.  This  play  firmly  established  Sardou  as  a  suc- 
cessful playwright,  and  henceforth  he  had  little 
difficulty,  as  may  be  imagined,  in  placing  his  next 
plays.  These  were  produced  in  quick  succession. 
"Nos  Intimes,"  "Les  Ganaches,"  and  "Nos  Bons 
Villageois"  are  among  the  best.  They  are  well- 
constructed  comedies  of  manners,  built  upon  Sar- 
dou's  own  amplification  of  the  Scribe  formula. 

Many  more  of  the  same  kind  were  to  be  WTitten, 
but  Sardou,  a  business  man  as  well  as  an  artist, 
varied  his  themes  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  time. 
Contemporaneous  manners  and  customs,  modes  of 
thought  and  idea,  all  found  their  place  in  comedies 
and  melodramas,  while  politics  and  religion  formed 
the  basis  of  more  than  one  serious  work.  Like  Au- 
gustus Thomas — who  has  declared  that  "the  theatre 
is  vital  only  when  visualizing  some  idea  in  the  public 
mind  at  the  moment" — Sardou  believed  in  giving 
[xil 


INTRODUCTION 


the  public  what  it  wanted.  The  Parisian  pubHc  was 
discriminating  and  sophisticated,  and  Sardou  knew 
this;  he  satisfied  his  public,  which,  in  return,  made 
of  him  a  comparatively  rich  and  indubitably  cele- 
brated man.  But  comedies  of  the  day,  plays  in 
which  contemporaneous  politics  and  ideas  played 
a  large  part,  were  not  the  sole  concern  of  this  in- 
defatigable dramatist :  melodrama,  chiefly  historical, 
possessed  charms  for  him.  He  had  always  been  in- 
terested in  archeology  and  history,  and  the  task 
of  reconstructing  historical  backgrounds  for  such 
plays  as  "Patrie!"  and  "La  Haine"  must  have  been 
congenial  work. 

The  prodigious  output  of  this  versatile  man,  its 
variety  and  its  average  merit,  can  scarcely  be  con- 
ceived by  any  mere  cataloguing  of  titles  and  sub- 
jects, yet  some  idea  may  be  formed  when  it  is  learned 
that  besides  the  few  plays  already  referred  to,  his 
Theatre  complet  would  include  verse  tragedies,  his- 
torical and  mythical  melodramas,  political  comedies 
of  intrigue,  drawing-room  comedies  and  farces, 
scientific  and  mystery  plays.  These  are  laid  in 
Russia,  the  United  States,  Greece,  Rome,  Spain, 
England.  "Daniel  Rochat"  treats  of  a  moral  and 
religious  problem;  "Thermidor"  is  a  psychological 
[  xii  1 


INTRODUCTION 


play  laid  in  the  troublous  times  of  the  Revolution; 
"Rabagas"  is  a  historical  satire  of  the  Commune; 
"L'Oncle  Sam,"  a  satire  on  American  family  life; 
"Ferreol"  is  one  of  the  earliest  examples  of  the 
criminal  or  "crook"  play;  "Spiritisme"  hinges  upon 
the  subject  which  Belasco  later  used  in  "The  Return 
of  Peter  Grimm";  "Maison  neuve"  is  a  picture  of 
middle-class  tradesmen;  "Fernande"  treats  of  the 
opening  of  gambling  casinos;  " Les  Ganaches  "  of  the 
advent  of  the  railway. 

The  enormous  output  of  Sardou  might  seem  to 
indicate  some  "machine-made"  process,  but  it  must 
be  remembered  that  Sardou  had  during  his  early 
struggles  been  a  close  student  of  dramatic  technic, 
and  by  the  time  "Les  Pattes  de  Mouche"  was  per- 
formed, this  technic  was  well  in  hand.  From  that 
day  on  he  bent  his  efforts  to  perfecting  what  he  had 
learned,  and  applying  it.  This  technic  has  been  for 
years  the  butt  of  critics,  many  of  whom  seem  to 
assume  that  because  an  artist  has  perfect  command 
of  his  medium  he  has  therefore  nothing  to  say. 
To  base  a  statement  of  the  sort  upon  English  adapta- 
tions of  "Divorgons!"  "Dora,"  and  "Les  Pattes  de 
Mouche"  would  not  be  wholly  unjust,  nor  can  it 
fairly  be  urged  that  Sardou  is  a  great  thinker;  he 
[  xiii  ] 


INTRODUCTION 


is  not.  On  the  other  hand,  a  careful  study  of  all 
his  plays,  a  sympathetic  reading  of  "Patrie!"  and 
two  or  three  of  the  better  comedies,  can  but  lead  one 
to  the  conclusion  that  here  is  a  dramatist  endowed 
with  rare  power  to  tell  a  story,  picture  a  struggle, 
and  portray  men  and  women  with  considerable  skill 
and  insight. 

Occasionally  a  critic  like  Professor  Brander  Mat- 
thews or  Mr.  Jerome  A.  Hart  has  gone  to  the 
trouble  of  reading  the  plays  and  arriving  at  a  sane 
estimate,  but  these  are  exceptions.  The  French 
critics,  too,  are  fair.  Rene  Doumic  said:  "He  is 
endowed  with  very  rare  qualities,  and  all  that  he 
lacks  is  to  have  a  higher  conception  of  his  art.  Still, 
there  is  but  one  voice  to  proclaim  him  the  most  ex- 
pert among  the  masters  of  the  stage."  The  careful 
and  discriminating  Jules  Lemaitre  remarked  that  he 
was  "  .  .  .a  power  .  .  .  one  of  the 
finest  dramatic  temperaments  of  the  century  .  .  . 
in  tragedy  he  has  twice  or  thrice  attained  to  grandeur 
and  almost  to  beauty  .  .  .  one  of  the  greatest 
dramatic  authors  of  his  time.  'Patrie'  and  'Divor- 
gons!'  do  not  fall  far  short  of  being  masterpieces." 
And  Emile  Faguet  adds:  "This  man  not  only  pos- 
sessed skill  in  construction,  emotional  power,  and 
[  xiv  ] 


INTRODUCTION 


wit  in  dialogue,  but  philosophical  penetration  as 
well.  .  .  .  French  audiences  will  long  remember 
the  man  who  made  them  laugh,  who  made  them 
weep,  who  even  made  them  think;  who  depicted 
France  to  foreign  audiences  in  her  best  guise,  and 
who  honored  her  greatly  in  more  ways  than  one." 

"Patrie!"  was  originally  performed  on  March  18, 
1869,  at  the  Porte  St. -Martin  Theatre  in  Paris. 
Owing  to  a  number  of  accidents,  it  was  not  seen  at 
the  Comedie  Frangaise  until  1901.  Meantime,  it 
had  been  seen  in  Italy,  Belgium,  Germany,  and  the 
United  States.  It  is  said,  in  tiddition,  that  among 
the  first  plays  to  be  produced  at  the  Comedie  on  the 
expiration  of  the  present  war  is  "Patrie!" 

While  this  drama  cannot  be  assumed  as  being  typi- 
cal of  all  Sardou's  work,  it  is  representative  of  a  great 
part  of  it.  Sardou  was  never  a  "thesis"  dramatist, 
yet  he  rarely  wTote  solely  for  the  sake  of  the  play. 
He  treated,  as  we  have  said,  religious,  moral,  politi- 
cal, and  historical  questions,  but  never  did  he,  like 
Dumas  fils,  deliberately  attempt  to  set  forth  and 
prove  a  thesis.  "Patrie!"  is  primarily  a  dramatic 
entertainment,  but  it  presents  at  the  same  time  food 
for  thought:  the  struggle  between  human  passion 
and  love  of  one's  country  may  be  taken  as  the  dra- 

[XV] 


INTRODUCTION 


matic  epitome  of  all  struggle.  Taking  for  his  magnifi- 
cent background  the  down-trodden  Flanders  under 
the  cruel  subjection  of  the  Spaniards,  with  the  Duke 
of  Alba  at  their  head,  he  conceived  a  play  of  patriot- 
ism, love,  and  death  that  is  still  as  moving  as  on  the 
day  it  was  written.  Yet  the  struggle,  fcr  se,  its 
psychological  import,  is  never  thrust  forward  to  the 
detriment  of  the  play:  Sardou  was  too  great  an 
artist  to  introduce  a  raisonneur.  For  him  the  play 
was  the  important  consideration.  That  is  why 
"Patrie!"  is  likely  to  live  longer  as  drama  than 
"Les  Idees  de  Madame  Aubray."  Sardou  was  first 
a  dramatist,  and  second  a  thinker;  Dumas  fits  was 
first  a  great  thinker,  and  a  good  dramatist  in  spite 
of  his  sermons,  his  theses,  and  his  raisonneurs. 

In  his  later  years  Sardou  suffered  from  his  col- 
laboration with  Sarah  Bernhardt;  for  her  he  wrote 
many  spectacular  melodramas — "La  Tosca,"  "Gis- 
monda,"  "Cleopatre,"  "Theodora" — in  which  the 
"star"  parts  were  written  for  an  actress  who  cared 
only  for  a  role  in  which  she  might  appear  to  advan- 
tage. These  efforts,  in  spite  of  many  splendid  scenes 
here  and  there,  are  practically  negligible  in  any  con- 
sideration of  the  plays  as  a  whole.  Sardou's  best 
work  was  done  before  he  signed  his  contracts  with 
[  xvi  ] 


INTRODUCTION 


"Sarah."     He  is  assured  of  a  place  among  those 

artists  who  portrayed  sections  of  the  Hfe  of  their 

time,   truthfully,   amusingly,   with   the  hand   of  a 

master. 

Barrett  H.  Clark. 


[  xvii  ] 


TRANSLATOR'S    NOTE 

I  have  tried  to  preserve  so  far  as  possible  the 
spirit  of  the  original  text;  to  that  end  I  have  left 
the  names,  titles,  and  occasional  expressions  (such  as 
the  Duke's  "  Vive-Dieu!  ")  unchanged.  The  style 
of  the  dialogue  is  at  times  rhetorical  and  somewhat 
stilted,  but  I  have  preserved  this  so  far  as  I  was 
able,  believing  that  any  sort  of  paraphrase  would 
tend  to  throw  the  whole  out  of  key.  The  stage- 
directions  are  complete  and,  even  if  they  are  found 
at  times  to  be  unnecessarily  so  for  the  reader,  I 
have  considered  it  better  to  present  a  Sardou  play 
to  the  English  reading  public  for  the  first  time  as 
it  came  from  the  dramatist. 

B.  H.  C. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED 

The  Count  de  Rysoor,  a  Flemish  nobleman 
The  ]NL^.rquis  de  la  Tremoille,  a  French  nobleman 
Jonas  the  Bellringer 
Karloo  van  der  Noot,  a  Flemish  nobleman 
The  Duke  of  Alba 
NoracARMES,  Grand  Provost 
Vargas,  of  the  Spanish  court 
IVIaitre  Alberti,  Dofia  Rafaele's  physician 
Delrio,  of  the  Spanish  court 
First  Officer  of  the  Prince  of  Orange 
Galena,  a  Flemish  citizen 
Second  Officer  of  the  Prince  of  Orange 
William  of  Orange 
A  Brewer 

RiNCON,  a  Spanish  captain 
Navarra,  a  Spanish  officer 
Goberstraet,  a  Flemish  citizen 
A  Pastor 

Miguel,  of  the  Spanish  court 
[  xxi] 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED 


Maitre  Charles,  the  executioner 

CoRTADiLLA,  of  the  Spauish  court 

Bakkerzeel,  a  Flemish  citizen 

CoRNELis,  a  Flemish  citizen 

An  Ensign  (Spanish) 

A  Spy 

The  Herald 

Domingo,  servant  of  Alba 

A  Majordomo 

A  Courier 

A  Soldier 

Dona  Dolores,  wife  of  Rysoor 

Dona  Rafaele,  Alba's  daughter 

Sarah  Mathisoon,  a  Flemish  woman 

The  Wo]\l\n  Shopkeeper 

Gudule,  servant  of  Dolores 

A  Woman  of  the  Streets 

Josuah  Koppestock,  a  Fleming 

The  scene  is  laid  at  Brussels,  in  1568. 


[  xxii 


Patrie !  was  presented  for  the  first  time  at  the  Porte 
St.  Martin  Theatre,  at  Paris,  on  March  18,  1869. 


PATRIE! 


ACT  I 

Scene  I :  The  market-place  of  the  Vieille  Boucherie  at 
Brussels.  There  are  large  pillars  and  cross-beams 
which  still  bear  their  iron  hooks.  This  market-place, 
abandoned  by  the  merchants,  has  been  occupied  by  the 
Spanish  troops,  who  have  turned  it  into  a  camp.  Up- 
stage the  end  of  a  street,  and  some  gables  of  houses  cov- 
ered with  snow,  may  be  seen.  Under  the  pillars  there 
are  three  huge  fires:  upstage  to  the  right,  down-stage 
to  the  left.  Here  and  there  among  the  pillar  bases 
cuirasses,  flags,  arms,  and  rugs  of  varioiis  sorts  are 
strewn  about.  There  is  a  group  of  officers  gathered 
around  the  fire  to  the  left,  and  groups  of  soldiers 
aroimd  the  other  two,  lying  on  the  straw,  or  seated 
on  old  rugs,  playing  dice,  drinking,  polishing  their 
weapons,  or  cooking.  Soldiers'  children  and  women 
of  the  streets  come  and  go,  and  from  time  to  time  pour 
out  drinks  for  soldiers  or  officers  in  one  or  other  of  the 
groups.  Scattered  about  are  heapsof  broken  furniture, 
objects  of  all  sorts,  indications  of  the  pillage.  Half- 
[3] 


PATRIE 

way  upstage  to  the  left  is  a  cart  full  of  linens,  vases, 
etc.  The  disorder  incident  to  the  military  occupa- 
tion of  a  city  is  everyivhere  visible.  Patrols  come 
and  go.  The  beat  of  drums  and  of  distant  fusillades 
are  occasionally  heard.  Here  and  there  are  benches, 
buffets,  and  casks.  Down- stage  to  the  left  there  is  a 
table  with  tankards  of  beer  and  goblets;  to  the  rigid, 
in  front  of  a  pillar,  there  are  two  stools. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  the  following  are  discovered: 
RiNCON,  Navarra,  Miguel,  an  Ensign,  soldiers, 
lancers,  pikemen,  artillerymen,  women  of  the  streets, 
and  children.  There  is  a  loud  roll  of  drums  in  the 
street. 

RiNCON  [seated,  left,  at  the  table,  with  the  Ensign 
and  Navarra,  icith  whom  he  is  throwing  dice]. 
What's  that? 

Miguel  [looking  up-stage].  Another  consignment 
of  prisoners. 

RiN.  The  devil !  That  makes  the  twentieth  that's 
entered  Brussels  since  this  morning.  Why  are  they 
brought  here?     Put  them  in  the  Jacobins'! 

MiG.  But,  Captain,  the  Jacobins',  the  wood 
market,  the  Egmont  palace — they  are  all  full  to  over- 
flowing. 


PATRIE 

RiN.  And  so  is  the  Boucherie!  Where  the  devil 
can  we  put  them? 

Ensign.  Well,  Senor  Rincon,  over  there  is  a  sort 
of  stable,  to  the  left  of  the  old  pig-pen.  Throw  them 
in  there — it's  good  enough  for  them ! 

RiN.  [rising].  I'll  look  at  it.  [To  the  soldiers.] 
Throw  some  wood  on  the  fire.  Hell  and  damnation! 
we're  freezing!  [He  goes  out,  left. 

MiG.  [to  the  soldiers,  who  are  iip-stage].  Hey! 
Wood,  you  there! 

Soldiers.     There's  no  more  left. 

MiG.  [taking  Rincon's  place].     Well,  chop  some! 

Soldiers  Very  well,  Lieutenant.  [They  chop  up 
a  cask  with  a  hatchet.] 

l^AVARRA[play{ng].     Ten!     Nine [Gunshots 

are  heard  in  the  distance.]     Hello,  what's  that? 

MiG.  Rebels — they've  been  dispatched  on  short 
notice. 

Nav.  Downright  foolishness,  to  waste  good 
powder  that  way!  It's  too  good  for  these  heretic 
dogs! 

[CoRTADiLLA  appears  up-stage.  He  is  greeted 
with  laughter,  as  he  gives  some  geese  which 
he  has  stolen  to  some  of  the  women  to  pluck. 
He  then  draivs  forth  a  rabbit  from  his  volumi- 


PATRIE 

nous    breeches;     the    soldiers    immediately 
snatch  the  rabbit  from  him.     Laughing,  the 
noise  of  arguments,  cries,  etc.] 
Hey  there!     Silence!    Mille  diables! 

Ensign.     They're  drunk! 

MiG.  [playing].  Bah!  let  them  be!  This  is  car- 
nival season. 

Ensign.     That's  so — Mardi-gras. 

Nav,  And  to  think  that  we're  here,  freezing  to 
death  for  these  damned  Flemings! 

A  Soldier  [who  has  entered  from  tlie  rear].  Cap- 
tain Rincon's  presence  is  requested  at  the  Town 
Hall. 

MiG.     He  isn't  here. 

Nav.  [to  the  Ensign,  who  holds  a  tankard].     Pour! 

Ensign.  Empty!  [To  one  of  the  women.]  Hey, 
Carmelita ! 

Carmelita  [coming  forward].  Do  the  senors  wish 
something  to  drink? 

Ensign.  Yes,  fair  child !  [She  pours  out  beer  for 
them.] 

RiN.  [reentering].  Upon  my  faith!  I  don't  know 
what  to  do:   here  comes  the  whole  town! 

Mig.     Captain,  you  are  wanted  at  the  Town  Hall. 

RiN.     I  know  it — it  is  about  the  Civil  Guard. 
[Gl 


PATRIE 

Ensign.     Are  they  being  disarmed? 

RiN.  Yes,  it  is  much  safer!  [To  the  soldier  at  the 
right  ivho  is  polishing  his  sword.]  Hand  me  your 
sword  and  a  glass  of  beer.  [  To  C armelita,  wJio  runs 
to  him.]     Ah,  it's  you,  CarmeUta? 

Car.  [pouring  out  beer  for  him].     Yes,  Captain. 

RiN.  [as  he  drinks,  he  notices  a  gold  chain  she  wears 
around  her  neck].  You  have  a  pretty  chain — who 
gave  it  to  you,  child  ? 

[Other  women  about  to  look  at  the  chain.] 

Car.     Pacheco  gave  it  to  me. 

RiN.  [kissing  her].  Pacheco  is  a  happy  mortal! 
Good-bye ! 

A  Soldier  [at  the  left].  Captain,  here  are  a  dozen 
more  arrests 

RiN.     A  dozen?     Ten  thousand  devils! 

MiG.     Put  them  under  these  pillars. 

RiN.  Wterever  you  hke,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned ! 
I  give  it  up,  Miguel !    [He  goes  out,  upstage  to  the  right. 

MiG.  [to  the  soldiers].     Bring  in  the  prisoners! 

[La  Tremoille  and  Rysoor  are  brought  in  at 
the  back,  left,  guarded  by  two  files  of  soldiers, 
with  an  officer  at  the  head.] 

Officer  [to  La  Tremoille,  who  halts,   showing 
surprise  at  being  conducted  to  such  a  spot.     The  officer 
[7] 


PATRIE 

urges  him  forward,   pushing  him  on  the  shoulder]. 
March,  you! 

La  Tr.  [ivith  dignity].  I  beg  your  pardon,  my 
friend!  My  sword  has  been  taken  from  me,  but  I 
still  have  my  cane,  and  I  warn  you  if  you  touch  me 
again  as  you  did  a  moment  ago  I  shall  break  it  over 
your  shoulders. 

Officer  [raising  his  sword].     What's  that,  rascal? 
La  Tr.  [disarming  him  by  a  stroke  of  the  cane,  and 
beating   him   over   the   shoulders].     Take   that,   you 
scoundrel ! 

[There  is  a  menacing  movement  among  the  sol- 
diers.    The  officer  picks  up  his  sword  and  is 
about    to    rush    at    La    Tremoille,    when 
Navarra  and  Miguel  interpose.] 
MiG.  [to  La  Tremoille]  .     You'll  get  cut  to  pieces ! 
La  Tr.    [eying   him].     I   beg  your  pardon,   you 

are ? 

MiG.     Lieutenant 


La  Tr.  And  I — Marquis  de  la  Tremoille,  faithful 
subject  and  friend  of  his  Majesty  Charles  King  of 
France;  although  I  am  a  prisoner,  I  shall  allow  no 
subaltern  to  raise  his  hand  against  me!  You  may 
tell  that  to  your  Government.  Is  there  no  place  to 
sit  down  here? 

[81 


I'ATRIE 

MiG.  [who,  together  with  Navarra  and  the  Ensign , 
has  taken  off  his  hat  politely  at  mention  of  La  Tre- 
moille's  name].  Monsieur  le  Marquis — that  is  dif- 
ferent!   Here  are  seats,  over  against  the  pillar. 

La  Tr.  I  hope  they're  clean?  [He  goes  to  the 
right  and  notices  Rysoor,  wlw  is  about  to  sit  down  on 
one  of  the  stools.]     Ah,  Monsieur,  I  beg  your  pardon! 

Rysoor  [bowing].     Monsieur,  after  you! 

La  Tr.  [boiving  likewise].     I  beg  you.  Monsieur! 
[  The  officers  return,  left,  to  warm  themselves  over 
the  fire.] 

Rys.  You  are  French,  Monsieur,  while  I  am  a 
citizen  of  this  city:   I  am  the  host! 

La  Tr.  Monsieur,  I  need  not  inquire  whether 
you  are  a  gentleman ! 

Rys.  [bowing].  Count  de  Rysoor,  Monsieur — 
quite  at  your  service. 

La  Tr.  [bowing].  I  am  the  Marquis  de  la  Tre- 
moille,  Monsieur — at  yours!  [They  put  on  their  hats 
again.]  Since  you  belong  to  this  city,  perhaps  you 
will  be  good  enough  to  inform  me  where  we  are? 

Rys.  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  this  building  is  the 
former  slaughter-house  which  the  Spaniards  have 
used  for  a  camp,  as  you  see. 

La  Tr.  [looking  up-stage].     What  a  camp! 
[91 


PATRIE 

Rys.  And  what  soldiers !  The  scum  of  the  earth ! 
Neopohtans,  Swiss,  Portuguese,  all  of  them  adven- 
turers, highway  robbers,  cut-throats,  and  pillagers; 
they've  gathered  here  with  their  women  and  their 
bastards,  under  a  flag  that  permits  them  to  com- 
mit the  vilest  outrages  with  impunity!  This  is  our 
shameful  yoke — it  is  killing  us :  this  armed  rabble 
that  calls  itself  Spanish  troops! 

La  Tr.  Then  this,  Monsieur,  is  where  they  pack 
those  who  are  arrested — people  like  you  and  me? 

Rys.     And  who  are  executed  if  need  be. 

La  Tr.     Nothing  but  butchery? 

Rys.     Always ! 

La  Tr.  Good!  I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur  le 
Comte,  but  I  have  only  arrived.  This  is  my  first 
visit  to  Brussels. 

Rys.  Disagreeable  beginning,  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis! 

La  Tr.      Especially  for  a  pleasure  journey! 

Rys.     Pleasure? 

La  Tr.     Exactly.     I  don't  bore  you,  I  hope? 

Rys.  Quite  the  contrary!  We  could  not  spend 
our  time  to  better  advantage  waiting  for  the  Grand 
Provost,  who  will  decide  our  fate. 

La  Tr.  [about  to  sit  down].  Let  us  gossip,  then, 
f  10  1 


I'ATIUE 

But,  one  thing  more:  I  must  tell  you,  I  am  a  Cal- 
vinist. 

Rys.     1  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  Monsieur. 

La  Tr.     Are  you  perhaps  of  the  same  faith? 

Rys.     I  am  proud  to  admit  it! 

La  Tr.  [offering  his  hand].  Well,  well,  Monsieur 
le  Comte,  let  me  shake  your  hand — with  all  my 
heart ! 

Rys.  [shaking  hands  with  La  Tremoille].  Mon- 
sieur ! 

[Shots  are  heard  in  ilie  distance.] 

La  Tr.     What  is  that.'^ 

Rys.  [talcing  off  his  hat].  Heretics,  like  you  and 
me — they  are  being  shot ! 

La  Tr.  [taking  off  his  hat].  God  receive  their 
souls!  [He  seats  himself.]  I  was  saying  that  His 
Majesty,  in  whose  favor  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to 
find  myself  on  account  of  my  tennis — I  am  a  cham- 
pion— His  Majesty  summoned  me  to  him,  and  said 
to  me:  "La  Tremoille,  it  is  too  warm  for  you  here, 
my  friend.  Go  and  visit  Italy  or  the  Netherlands!" 
I  came  to  the  Netherlands.  At  the  frontier,  exactly 
in  the  middle  of  the  river,  whom  do  I  see  surrounded 
by  a  company  of  cavaliers?  M.  Louis  de  Nassau. 
He  shouts  to  me:  "Hello,  La  Tremoille!"  I  knew 
I  11] 


PATRIE 

him  at  the  Louvre,  at  the  time  when  he  came  there 
in  company  with  his  brother,  Prince  of  Orange,  an 
excellent  gentleman! 

Rys.  The  Prince  of  Orange?  Ah,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,  there  is  the  loyalest,  wisest,  and  bravest 
citizen  of  this  land !  The  pride  of  the  Netherlands — 
perhaps  its  saviour!  So  his  brother.  Monsieur  de 
Nassau,  hailed  you? 

La  Tr.  And  I  cried  out  to  him :  "  Monsieur,  what 
the  devil  are  you  doing  in  the  water  there?"  Then 
he  answered:  "I'm  looking  for  a  ford  for  my  men! 
Willyou  join  us?"  "\Vhat  are  you  doing?"  "We're 
going  to  break  a  lance  with  the  Spanish  senors!"  I 
was  delighted.  As  a  Protestant,  you  understand, 
I  lost  no  love  on  His  Catholic  Majesty  King  Philip. 

Rys.     And  as  for  me;  I  hate  him  cordially ! 

La  Tr.  He's  a  melancholiac.  I  dislike  him,  too. 
Then  I  said  to  Monsieur  de  Nassau :  "  Indeed  I  will 
join  you,  and  gladly!"  We  went  on  all  day,  and 
our  band  grew  every  mile  we  rode.  At  night,  we 
were  a  veritable  little  army.  Next  day  we  encoun- 
tered the  Spaniards  at  Jemmingen !  We  fought,  or, 
rather,  they  fought  us — a  total  defeat.  My  horse 
was  wounded,  shot  under  me;  then  the  horse  fell  on 
me!  A  Spaniard  disarmed  me,  and  sold  me  to  his 
112] 


PATRIE 

captain  for  a  hundred  pistoles — harness  thrown  in. 
The  captain  sold  nie  in  turn  to  the  colonel  for  a 
thousand  ducats,  who  resold  me  for  three  times  that 
amount  to  the  Duke  of  Alba,  who  fixes  my  ransom 
at  a  hundred  thousand  French  crowns. 

Rys.     And  the  Duke  sold  you  for ? 

La  Tr.  Oh,  no — it  stopped  there,  luckily.  The 
price  might  grow  to  more  than  I  am  worth! 

Rys.  Well,  a  hundred  thousand  crowns  is 
very 

La  Tr.  It  is  considerable !  I  wrote  to  my  brother, 
asking  him  to  raise  the  sum.  It  will  cost  me  two 
or  three  chateaux,  but  from  among  the  forty  dis- 
tricts I  shall  still  have  a  few  left. 

Rys.     And  meantime? 

La  Tr.  Meantime,  I've  been  bored,  as  you  may 
easily  imagine!  To  come  to  the  Netherlands  on  a 
pleasure  trip,  and  there  find  myself  penned  up  at 
Jemmingen  between  two  guards!  Well,  I  said  to 
myself:  "I  gave  my  word  not  to  cross  the  frontier; 
therefore  I  shall  not  cross  the  frontier,  but — I  must 
see  Brussels!  Ventre-Mahon!  Never  may  it  be 
said  that  I  made  a  pleasure  journey  to  the  Nether- 
lands without  seeing  Brussels  in  carnival  time!" 

Rys.     And  here  we  are! 
f  13  1 


PATRIE 

La  Tr.  Yes,  here  I  am — arrested  the  moment  I 
set  foot  in  the  land — it  is  rather  unfortunate,  on 
Mardi-gras. 

[So2inds  of  a  dispute  between  two  women  up- 
stage.    They  enter,  surrounded  by  soldiers, 
who  encourage  them.     Miguel  and  some  offi- 
cers separate  the  combatants.] 
Rys.    [carefidly   watching   the  group   at   the   back, 
ichich  gradually  disperses  among  the  pillars].     Yes, 
to-day  is  Mardi-gras!     Ah,  Monsieur  le  Marquis, 
this  day  three  years  ago,  under  Cardinal  Granville 
and  Madame  la  Gouvernante,  you  woidd  have  seen 
nothing  but  continual  feasting  and  merrymaking — 
masks,  sarabandes,  and  jousts!     The  whole  week 
there  was  dancing,  night  and  day,  at  the  Egmont 
Palace,  while  for  the  entire  month  the  Prince  of 
Orange  held  open  house.     To-day  Monsieur  d'Eg- 
mont  is  dead:   he  died  on  the  scaffold,  and  his  wife 
goes  from  door  to  door  begging  bread  for  her  little 
ones;  the  Prince  of  Orange  has  no  longer  a  roof  over 
his  head :  he  who  once  had  a  king's  fortune  is  reduced 
to  the  necessity  of  selling  his  goldplate  to  the  Jews 
of  Strassburg  to   supply  ammunition  for  his  fol- 
lowers !     And  this  city !     This  once  flourishing  city, 
rich   beyond   her   rivals — this   unfortunate   city   is 
f  14  1 


PATRIE 

nothing  more  than  a  bivouac  where  the  Spaniards 
and  their  horses  wallow  in  the  straw  at  every  street 
corner.  Everywhere  streets  are  hushed  in  silence 
and  sorrow,  streets  through  which  an  occasional 
passer-by  skulks,  clinging  close  to  the  walls  for  fear 
of  jostling  drunken  soldiers !  Everywhere  the  shops 
are  closed,  workshops  stand  empty!  From  every 
belfry  floats  the  black  flag!  On  every  door  hangs 
mourning!  [Gunshots  in  the  distance.]  Every  in- 
stant that  rattle  of  musketry  telling  the  tale  of 
death — a  ghastly  knell  reminding  us  that  more  poor 
devils  are  seeing  the  last  of  life. 

La  Tr.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  this  is  a  hideous 
carniAal ! 

Rys.  You  have  already  seen  how  it  is  celebrated 
in  the  country!  There  it  is  different:  they  don't 
take  the  trouble  to  bury  the  dead!  The  course  of 
the  Royal  Army  can  be  traced  by  the  flight  of  the 
vultures — entire  villages  without  a  soul  in  them! 
Smoking  ruins  everywhere  you  look !  Ruined  walls ! 
Before  every  door  a  pool  of  blood,  where  bodies 
fester,  lying  about  at  the  mercy  of  wolves !  Herds  of 
women  and  children,  dying  of  hunger,  snatching  food 
from  the  very  beasts  of  the  field !  And  everywhere, 
everywhere  the  eternal  gibbet!  ^^^len  the  gallows 
[15  1 


PATRIE 

are  too  heavy  to  bear  an  extra  burden  they  use  trees; 
when  the  trees  are  overweighted,  then  gates,  sheds, 
gable-ends,  sign-posts!  Every  overhanging  projec- 
tion is  a  gallows !  And  when  these  leave  no  room — a 
wheel  on  a  pole,  and  from  each  spoke  hangs  a  victim. 
These  objects  line  every  approach  to  the  gates  of 
Brussels:  avenues  of  human  flesh!  When  rope  is 
lacking,  and  when  they  cannot  even  steal  more,  they 
try  grapeshot;  when  powder  is  scarce,  they  resort  to 
drowning!  When  the  rivers  choke,  they  burn  the 
victims !  This  is  winter — they  must  make  use  of  their 
opportunities — the  garrison  must  be  kept  warm ! 

La  Tr.     Horrible! 

Rys.  And  all  this  because  we,  the  citizens  of 
Flanders,  are  unwilling  to  be  subjects  of  the  King 
of  Spain,  who  is  for  us  nothing  but  the  Due  de  Bra- 
bant. Nor  do  we  wish  to  be  judged  by  the  frightful 
Inquisition!  Because  we,  the  rightful  heirs  of  those 
franchises  and  privileges  which  our  forefathers  won 
at  the  price  of  their  life's  blood,  will  not  allow  our- 
selves to  be  outraged  by  this  double-faced  and 
perjured  king,  who  with  his  hand  on  the  Holy 
Scripture,  before  God  and  man,  swore  to  protect 
these  rights  and  privileges!  Because  we  want  no 
other  faith  than  that  which  is  right  according  to  our 
[16] 


PATRIE 

consciences,  nor  other  soldiers  than  our  own!  Be- 
cause, in  short,  we  are  a  free-born  people,  who  refuse, 
so  long  as  there  remains  a  single  drop  of  Flemish 
blood  in  our  Flemish  veins,  to  remain  the  slaves  of  a 
despot,  an  inhuman  soldier,  and  an  ambitious  monk ! 

La  Tr.  Spoken  like  a  gentleman !  You  are  right ! 
I  have  no  idea  what  Fate  has  in  store  for  us,  you  and 
me,  but  if  we  escape  alive,  here  are  two  strong  arms 
and  a  loyal  heart  at  your  service ! 

Rys.  Many  thanks.  Monsieur  le  Marquis!  But 
there  is  no  doubt  as  to  what  will  happen  to  us :  you 
will  be  freed,  I  put  to  death. 

LaTr.    Why? 

Rys.  I  do  not  know  the  reason.  For  instance, 
I  may  be  accused  of  having  left  the  city  in  defiance 
of  the  edict  forbidding  one  to  pass  the  gates  without 
official  permission  from  the  Duke  of  Alba. 

La  Tr.     So  there  is  an  edict — forbidding  that? 

Rys.  And  seventeen  others,  each  with  the  sim- 
plest of  penalties  for  infringement;  in  every  case 
death. 

La  Tr.     For  this,  too? 

Rys.     Yes,  for  this. 

LaTr.     Frightful! 

Rys.  This  is  the  government  under  which  we 
[17  1 


PATRIE 

exist,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  and  have  existed  since 
the  Duke  of  Alba  annulled  all  our  laws  and  imposed 
on  their  ruin  his  infamous  court.  He  calls  it  the 
Court  of  Troubles;  we  call  it  the  Court  of  Blood. 
And  worse — do  you  see  that  placard,  the  brown  and 
yellow  one,  over  there,  on  the  pillar?  [He  points  to 
the  first  pillar  to  the  left.] 

La  Tr.     Yes. 

Rys.  This  is  what  it  contains  (I  had  to  read 
it  three  times  in  order  to  believe  my  eyes) :  "  In  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Church  and  of  the  King,  the  Duke 
of  Alba,  the  commander-general,  it  is  decreed:  All 
the  inhabitants" — {all,  mark  you,  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  Netherlands) — "without  distinction  of 
rank,  age,  or  sex,  are  condemned  to  death  as  here- 
tics!" 

LaTr.     All  the  inhabitants? 

Rys.  All — three  millions  of  men  condemned  with 
one  scrape  of  the  pen ! 

La  Tr.  [going  to  the  left  in  order  to  read  the  pkioard]. 
This  is  madness! 

Rys.  Yes,  but  how  expeditious !  No  more  cross- 
questioning,  no  witnesses!  Every  man  who  is  ar- 
rested may  be  executed  on  a  moment's  notice:  he  is 
condemned  in  advance. 

[18] 


PATRIE 

La  Tr.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  are  we  in  the  Nether- 
lands, or  is  this  hell? 

Rys.  Ah!  King  Philip  has  chosen  the  right  man ! 
This  insane  and  melancholy  king  needed  a  fanatical 
and  bloodthirsty  servant — a  man  whose  face  is  the 
only  human  thing  about  him.  No!  He  is  a  father, 
and  a  good  father.  He  has  a  daughter  whom  he 
idolizes.  She  is  ill  and  is  slowly  dying — he  is  des- 
perate. The  air  even  of  her  native  Spain  could  not 
prolong  the  days  of  the  poor  child,  and  the  air  of 
Brussels,  so  dark  and  humid,  hastens  her  end.  And 
this  father — how  sure  is  God's  vengeance! — this 
father  in  despair  only  aggravates  his  daughter's 
malady!  These  massacres,  these  unspeakable  hor- 
rors, are  breaking  the  girl's  heart.  She  is  good  and 
charitable;  her  despair  is  killing  her!  What  a 
heavenly  chastisement,  striking  the  father  through 
his  child!  Each  blow  he  delivers  is  a  deathblow  at 
his  daughter's  heart;  the  more  he  kills — the  mon- 
ster ! — the  nearer  she  approaches  to  her  death ! 

La  Tr.  And  this  nation  allows  itself  to  perish  as 
that  girl  is  perishing,  through  laziness  and  torpor! 
Have  not  these  three  million  men,  condemned  as  one, 
thrown  themselves  on  this  madman  and  torn  him  to 
pieces  .-^ 

[19] 


PATRIE 

Rys.  Patience!  The  time  is  near — revolution  is 
growing  in  the  upper  provinces — we  have  command 
of  nearly  all  the  coast.  William  de  la  Marck  has 
entered  the  harbor  of  La  Brielle;  the  province  of 
Utrecht  refused  to  pay  its  taxes,  and  is  now  secretly 
arming.  Overburdened  with  debts,  at  the  end  of 
his  resources,  stripped  of  the  subsidies  he  expected 
from  Spain  by  the  English  pirates,  the  Duke  has  just 
raised  the  taxes  again,  and  a  wave  of  horror  and 
hatred  runs  through  the  Netherlands :  it  means  ruin 
to  the  entire  nation!  Let  the  Prince  of  Orange,  our 
saviour,  our  God,  once  make  up  for  his  setback  at 
Jemmingen  and  gain  one  victory  over  the  Spaniards 
— behold,  the  rebellion  breaks  forth,  enveloping  and 
devouring  the  oppressors! 

La  Tr.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  I  shall  be  ready  to 
take  any  part! 

Rys.     Ah!  Monsieur,  shall  /  live  that  long? 
[Roll  of  drums  in  the  distance.] 
The  drums  we  hear  may  be  those  of  the  Grand 
Provost  and  his  worthy  acolytes ! 

[He  goes  to  the  right. 

La  Tr.  [jolloiving  him].  Is  it  the  Grand  Provost 
who  will  decide  our  fate? 

Rys.     Yes — Noircarmes,  a  vile  brute,  who  has  well 
[20] 


PATRIE 

deserved  by  his  exploits  the  nickname  of  Butcher! 
Delrio,  an  insane  fanatic,  more  stupid  than  wicked, 
is  with  him;  and  ^'argas,  secretary  of  the  council, 
a  nasty  fellow  who  was  forced  to  leave  Spain 
after  violating  a  young  girl  whose  tutor  he  was; 
he  is  acquiring  a  fortune  here  by  confiscation  and 
robbery. 

La  Tr.  And  of  these  three  scoundrels  not  one,  I 
dare  say,  is  a  gentleman? 

Rys.     No. 

La  Tr.  Good !  I  shall  use  language  fitting  to 
their  station! 

[The  noi.sc  of  the  drums  sounds  nearer.] 

Rys.  Here  they  come,  Monsieur  le  Marquis. 
This  may  be  our  last  hour.  Will  you  let  me  give 
you  some  advice? 

La  Tr.     I  beg  you 

Rys.  If  you  are  questioned  about  your  religious 
beliefs,  conceal  the  fact  that  you  are  Calvinist!  If 
you  were  discovered  it  might  mean  the  forfeiture  of 
your  life. 

La  Tr.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  if  I  gave  you  the 
same  advice,  would  you  act  on  it? 

Rys.    No! 

La  Tr.     Then  allow  me  to  imitate  you  in  one  re- 
[211 


PATRIE 

spect — that  is  the  only  way  I  can  accomplish  my 
duty. 

Rys.  [grasping  La  Tremoille's  hands].     You  are 
right,  Monsieur.     God  save  you! 

[The  beat  of  drums  is  heard  in  the  street.  All 
the  soldiers,  women,  etc.,  reenter,  station  them- 
selves about,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  court; 
some  crowd  the  benches,  other  various  articles 
of  furniture,  carts,  etc.  The  stage,  all  except 
the  centre,  is  filled  with  soldiers,  who  have  run 
in  from  all  sides.  Four  of  the  ProvosVs 
Guards,  two  of  them  carrying  torches,  precede 
NoiRCARMEs;  the  torch-bearers  go  to  the  left 
and  station  themselves  around  the  fire.  The 
other  tioo,  sword  in  hand,  put  the  crowd  into 
place.  Filter  Noircarmes,  Vargas,  and 
T)el,rio,  followed  by  two  clerks  of  the  court  and 
more  soldiers,  who  carry  drawn  swords.] 
Noircarmes  [brutally,  as  he  enters].  It's  cold  as 
the  devil  here !  Wood !  [He  approaches  the  fire,  left.] 
Soldiers  [upstage].     Wood! 

Vargas  [also  going  to  the  fire].     Light  torches,  too! 
We  shan't  be  able  to  see  a  thing  in  a  few  minutes. 
MiG.     Torches! 
Soldiers  [outside].     Torches! 
[  22  ] 


PATRIE 

Delrio  [going  to  the  table].  Come,  let's  waste  no 
time !     We  almost  froze  at  the  Jacobins' ! 

NoiR.     Where  is  Captain  Rincon? 

MiG.  At  the  Town  Hall,  Monseigneur,  in  order 
to  disarm  the  Civil  Guard! 

NoiR.  Very  good !  And,  by  the  way,  this  Karloo 
Van  der  Noot  been  found? 

Rys.  [quivering,  aside].  Karloo!  Good  God! 
what  do  these  wretches  want  with  him?  [He  listens 
with  an  air  of  anxiety.] 

MiG.     Monseigneur,  Karloo  was  not  at  home. 

Vargas  [warming  his  feet].     Who  is  this  Karloo? 

NoiR.  [going  to  the  right  of  the  table  in  order  to  sit  in 
the  place  first  occupied  by  Rincon].  Former  trumpeter 
of  Monsieur  d'Egmont,  at  the  battle  of  Gravelines — 
very  suspicious  character! 

Delrio.     Calvinist? 

NoiR.  No,  a  Catholic,  but  not  a  jot  better  than  a 
Calvinist.  When  he  was  captain  of  the  Civil  Guard 
he  received  an  order  to  disarm  his  whole  company 
within  twenty-f our  hours ;  he  did  nothing  whatsoever 
about  it!     [He  sits  down.] 

Delrio  [above  the  table].  That  looks  very  suspi- 
cious. 

Vargas.     Miguel,  send  a  soldier  at  once  to  the 


PATlllE 

captain  with  the  following  order:  "Karloo  is  granted 
the  right  to  take  the  weapons  from  his  company 
to  the  Town  Hall.  If,  however,  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning  we  lack  a  single  musket,  at  a  quarter- 
past  he  will  have  an  opportunity  at  a  distance  of  ten 
feet  from  the  ground  of  meditating  on  the  advantages 
of  exactitude." 

[The  soldiers  laugh.] 

NoiR.  [in  an  undertone].  It  might  be  wise  to  begin 
at  that  point! 

Vargas  [in  an  undertone,  sitting  down,  left].  Yes, 
but  we  should  not  then  have  the  muskets.  There  is 
always  time  later! 

Rys.  [drawing  a  free  breath].     He  is  saved! 

La  Tr.  [in  a  whisper].     Until  to-morrow ! 

Rys.  [likewise  in  a  whisper,  hopefully].  Oh,  to- 
morrow ! 

La  Tr.  Really,  Monsieur,  you  trembled  much 
more  for  him  than  for  yourself! 

Rys.  I  did,  for  I  love  him  as  a  brother — I  might 
say  like  a  child ! 

NoiR.     Let  us  begin  now,  Miguel.     [At  a  signal 
from  Delrio,  the  clerks  lay  the  registers  on  the  table, 
where  they  have  already  placed  inkstands  and  pens.] 
How  many  prisoners  are  here? 
[24] 


PATRIE 

MiG.     Excellency,  a  hundred  and  fifty — and  close- 
packed  ! 

NoiR.    Let  us  enlighten  them !    [  The  soldiers  laugh. 
To  Delrio.1     Has  Your  Grace  the  papers? 
Delrio.     Here! 
NoiR.  [to  Miguel].     Proceed — and  quickly! 

[The  soldiers  have  filled  the  benches;   others  sit 

around  the  bases  of  the  pillars  and  on  the 

tables.     The  stage  is  so  crowded  that  scarcely 

anything  of  the  men  can  be  seen  but  their 

heads.     Night  falls;  the  stage  is  lighted  only 

by  the  flickering  torches  and  the  reflections 

from  many  hearths.     A  prisoner,  dressed  in 

black,  is  brought  forward  from  the  back,  right.] 

Vargas  [looking  over  the  documents  ivhich  he  and 

Delrio  have  received  from  the  clerks].     Who  is  this 

fellow? 

MiG.  [to  the  prisoner].     What's  your  name? 
Prisoner.     Balthazar  Cuyp. 
NoiR.     Profession? 
Prisoner  [simply].     Pastor. 

[Murmurs  from  the  soldiers.] 
Delrio.     Very  well!    This  simplifies  matters! 
NoiR.     Good!     [To  Miguel.]     Take  him  away! 
Soldiers.     Death !     Death ! 
125  1 


PATRIE 

MiG.     Hang  him! 

NoiR.     Yes. 

MiG.     Monseigneur,  we  have  no  more  rope! 

Delrio.     Then  shoot  him. 

Vargas  [his  nose  buried  among  the  documents]. 
Don't  waste  powder.  Burn  him  with  the  others — 
that's  the  simplest  way.     Wood  costs  nothing. 

NoiR.  You  are  right!  Away  with  him  to  the 
Jacobins' ! 

Mig.     To  the  Jacobins' ! 

[The  soldiers  open  their  ranks  and  allotv  Cuyp 
to  pass;  then  close  them  at  once,  left,  as  they 
shout:  ''Death!  Death!"] 
Next! 

[  The  soldiers  bring  forward  an  old  man.] 

NoiR.     Who  is  this.'' 

Delrio  [looking  at  a  document].  Goberstraet  from 
Naerden. 

Old  Man  [trembling].  Pity  me,  Monseigneur. 
I'm  a  poor,  harmless  old  man.  I'm  a  father — I  have 
a  family.     Pity  me! 

NoiR.  [To  Delrio].     What  is  the  charge.' 

Delrio.     Protested  against  the  latest  tax. 

Old  Man.  I  meant  no  harm,  Monseigneur.  Pity 
me! 

[26] 


PATRIE 

NoiR.  [pointing  to  the  placard  on  the  pillar].  Haven't 
you  read  the  edict — article  nine  ? 
Old  Man.     Have  mercy! 

[He  disappears  as  the  first  prisoner  did,  amid 
the  derision  of  the  soldiers.] 
Nom.    Next ! 

[A  child  of  fourteen,  who  struggles  with  his 
guards,  is  brought  fonvard.     The  soldiers  have 
to  drag  him  along  on  his  knees.] 
Delrio.     a  child? 
MiG.     Josuah  Koppestock. 

Vargas.  Refused  to  take  off  his  cap  as  the  pro- 
cession passed. 

[Murmurs  in  the  crowd.] 
Child  [terror-stricken].     Have  pity,  Monseigneur, 
I'm  so  young! 

NoiR.  All  the  more  reason — if  we  allowed  these 
children  to  grow  up  as  rebels !  [  To  the  soldiers.]  Take 
him  away! 

Child  [breaking  loose  from  his  two  guards,  and 
clasping  Noircarmes's  knee,  then  his  arm].  Mon- 
seigneur, have  pity  on  me — pardon  me! 

Noir.  [casting  him  off].  Take  him  away!  If  we 
listened  to  them,  they  would  all  be  innocent !  Take 
him  off  at  once! 

[27] 


PATRIE 

Child  [still  struggling  with  the  guards,  who  finally 
take  him  of].  Pity  me!  Help!  Let  me  be!  Help! 
Mother!  Mamma!  Mamma!  [He  disappears  as 
the  others  have  done,  crying  out  as  he  goes.] 

La  Tr.  [aside  to  Rysoor].  This  waiting  is  fearful, 
Monsieur;  it  tears  my  heart ! 

Rys,  [also  aside].     Poor  child — and  the  mother! 

La  Tr.     Are  you  married,  Monsieur  le  Comte! 

Rys.     Alas,  Monsieur:  to  a  wife  whom  I  adore! 

La  Tr.     Courage,  Monsieur! 

Vargas.  Now,  the  next !  Hurry  up !  We're  freez- 
ing! 

[The  soldiers  laugh  brutally  as  Jonas  is  brought 
forward.] 

Rys.  [nervously].  Ah,  the  bellringer!  Poor  devil! 
How  does  he  happen  to  be  here.' 

NoiR.  Come  forward!  [He  takes  the  documents 
from  Vargas.] 

Vargas.     Battery  and  assault  on  a  soldier. 

Norn,  [to  Jonas].     Your  name  is  Jonas? 

Jonas.       Yes,  Monseigneur.       I'm     also     called 
"L'Enfle,"*  but  I  don't  insist  on  that! 
[The  soldiers  laugh.] 

Delrio  [smiling].     Fine  face!    Ha! 

*  "  Blockhead." 

[28  1 


PATRIE 

NoiR.  [also  smiling].  Yes.  What  do  you  do,  my 
friend? 

Jonas  [confidently].  Just  now,  Monseigneur,  I 
spend  my  time  objecting  to  things  as  they  are,  but 
a  year  ago,  before  the  Duke  of  Alba  came,  I  was  bell- 
ringer  of  the  Town  Hall. 

NoiR.  Ah,  you're  the  bellringer?  Good!  You 
live  in  the  belfry.' 

Jonas.  Yes,  Monseigneur,  with  my  wife  and 
little  ones.  They  left  me  my  lodgings  on  the  main 
floor,  after  they'd  stopped  the  ringing  of  the  bells  for 


service 


Vargas.  Yes — and  you  are  now  lodging  Corta- 
dilla  the  trumpeter  at  your  place,  are  you  not? 

[CoRTADiLLA  advancss  and  makes  a  military  salute.] 

Jonas.     Yes,  Monseigneur — unfortunately. 

Vargas.  Well,  the  trumpeter  Cortadilla,  who  is 
present,  complains  that  he  has  suffered  many  humili- 
ations at  your  hands. 

Jonas.     He  is  deprived  of  some  things,  Monsei- 
gneur— my  wine !     He  drank  the  whole  cellar  dry ! 
[The  soldiers  laugh.] 

NoiR.     You  should  count  yourself  lucky,  Maltre 
Jonas,  to  be  allowed  to  quench  the  thirst  of  one  of 
His  Catholic  Majesty's  servants!     Especially  when 
[29  1 


PATRIE 

he  is  the  victim  of  such  an  infirmity :  for  he  is  dumb, 
you  know — ever  since  the  battle  of  Saint-Quentin. 
■  Jonas.     Yes,  Monseigneur,  he  told  me  about  that 
— a  bullet  that  cut  off  half  his  tongue. 

NoiR.     Well,  then 

Jonas.  A  very  unfortunate  accident!  What  an 
awful  tragedy!  \Miat  a  talker  he  must  have  been 
before  the  battle!  But  now  it's  much  worse — you 
can't  understand  a  damned  word  he  says — he  ex- 
plains himself  with  his  trumpet!  He  plays  certain 
calls  to  tell  the  various  circumstances  of  his  life: 
one  to  announce  that  he  is  ready  for  meals;  one 
means  he  wants  soup;  one  for  more  wine,  and  I 
know  that  one!  Why,  we  lead  a  dog's  life,  Monsei- 
gneur! He  comes  home  at  one  in  the  morning !  [He 
imitates  the  call  of  a  trumpet.]  Ta  ra  ta  ta  ta!  That 
means:  "Open  the  door!"  I  get  up — then  he  goes 
to  bed;  no  sooner  do  I  drop  ofP  to  sleep  than — [He 
again  imitates  the  call,  sadly] — Ta  ra  ta  ta  ta!  He's 
sick!  Again  I  get  up  and  help  him.  I  get  no  more 
sleep  that  night.  All  that's  not  so  bad,  but  what  do 
you  think?  This  morning  he  took  it  into  his  head  to 
invent  a  new  call !  [Once  more  he  imitates  a  call,  this 
time  allegro.]  Ta  ra  ta  ta  ta !  D'you  know  what  that 
means.'* 

[30  1 


PATRIE 

NoiR.     No — what? 

Jonas,  "Have  Madame  Jonas  come  up  to  my 
room  at  once!  I  must  speak  to  her!"  [The  sol- 
diers laugh.]  I  pretended  not  to  hear!  Then  a 
louder  call.  I  got  angry — then  we  quarrelled;  but, 
what  the  devil,  he  always  has  the  last  word  with  his 
trumpet!    I'm  damned  if  I  take  the  rascal  back! 

Vargas.  By  the  way,  Maitre  Jonas,  I  notice  here 
that  there  are  serious  reports  about  you. 

Jonas.     Lord  in  Heaven!     About  me? 

Vargas.     Yes,  on  account  of  your  opinions. 

Jonas.  My  belfry  gives  me  the  only  opinions  I 
ever  have. 

Vargas.  Exactly!  Well,  your  belfry  is  under 
suspicion ! 

Jonas.     My  belfry! 

Vargas.  It  is  suspected  of  belonging  to  the 
rebels. 

Jonas.     It  never  says  anything! 

Vargas.  Because  it  cannot ;  but  every  one  knows 
that,  if  it  weren't  muffled,  it  would  play  only  Flemish 
airs — music  which  is  hostile  to  the  King! 

Jonas.     But 

NoiR.     [brutally].     That's    enough!     How   many 
bells  are  there  in  your  belfry? 
[311 


PATRIE 

Jonas  [intimidated].  Three,  Monseigneur:  the 
big  one,  called  Roland ;  then  there's  Jacqueline,  and 
Jeanneton.  They're  for  holidays,  when  the  people 
used  to  have  good  times. 

Delrio.  You  have  been  ordered  to  sever  all  the 
ropes  from  these  bells. 

Jonas.  That's  been  done — and  even  the  stairs 
leading  up  to  the  first  landing  have  been  smashed. 

NoiR.  Good!  But  that  is  not  enough!  You 
were  also  ordered  to  play  Spanish  instead  of  Flemish 
melodies.     Have  you  done  that.'' 

Jonas.  I've  tried  to,  Monseigneur,  but  my 
bells  can't  change  so  easily;  they're  terribly  stub- 
born. 

Vargas.     I  think  the  clown  is  making  game  of  us! 

Delrio  [aside].  Yes;  but,  you  see,  he's  the  only 
man  in  the  city  who  can  ring  the  bells !  We'll  hang 
him  later! 

NoiR.     Master  Bellringer,  we  give  you  exactly 
forty -eight  hours  in  which  to  transform  your  Flemish 
belfry  into  a  good  Spanish  one,  faithful  to  the  King 
and  the  Church !     Don't  forget  it !     Now  go ! 
[Jonas  is  about  to  leave.] 

Vargas.     One  more  word!      You  referred  a  mo- 
ment ago,  my  friend,  to  the  days  when  people  had  a 
[32  1 


PATRIE 


good   time.      This   is  Mardi-gras — the  time  when 

people  should  be  gay 

Jonas.     Well,  you  see 


V.^RGAS.  You  clown,  in  the  da^'s  when  you  lived 
in  disorder  and  anarchy  your  life  was  one  series  of 
festivals  and  debauchery;  now  that  the  city  is  filled 
with  soldiers  in  order  to  maintain  discipline,  you 
pretend  to  be  downcast!  There's  not  a  mask  in  the 
streets;  and  on  a  holiday  of  this  sort,  too — not  even  a 
drunken  reveller! 

Jonas  [pointing  to  Cortadilla].     I  beg  your  par- 
don— there's  the  trumpeter! 
[Laughs  in  the  crowd.] 

NoiR.  Ah,  I  had  forgotten!  Trumpeter  Corta- 
dilla, give  your  arm  to  this  ape;  then  decorate 
his  head  with  feathers,  or  give  him  a  mask — do 
anything  you  like — then  walk  around  with  him, 
from  wine  shop  to  wine  shop,  and  gather  as  many 
comrades  as  you  can!  He  will  bear  all  expenses — 
and  set  an  example!  Go  now,  and  enjoy  your- 
selves ! 

Jonas  [as  Cortadilla  takes  his  arm].  Only  too 
happy,  Monseigneur — too  happy !  At  least  don't  let 
him  play  his  old  trumpet ! 

Soldiers  [Zaw^^in^].     Yes!    Yes!    Yes! 
[33] 


PATRIE 

NoiR.     You're  mistaken — that  will  add  to  the 
festivities  [as  Jonas  is  being  taken  off]. 

Jonas.     That  is  too  much  pleasure  at  one  time! 
[They  go  out  arm  in  arm,  while  the  soldiers 
laugh.] 
Rys.  [to  La  Tremoille].     Well,  the  poor  man  got 
off  easily ! 

Norn.     Next! 

MiG.     It's  a  woman ! 

[There  is  a  movement  in  the  crowd.    A  woman 
is  brought  in.] 
NoiR.     Name? 
Delrio  [reading  a  document  which  is  handed  to  him]. 

Sarah  Mathisoon — killed  Spanish  soldiers 

[Threatening  murmurs  among  the  soldiers.] 
NoiR.  [to  the  woman].     Have  you  killed  soldiers? 
Woman.     I've  killed  ten! 

Soldiers.     Death!     She's  a  sorceress!     Kill  her! 
Death! 

NoiR.     Silence!     Wliat  the  devil! 
Woman.     Bellows  you  beasts! 
NoiR.     Why  did  you  kill  them? 
Woman.     Do  you  ask  me  why?     I'll   tell  3'^ou! 
I'm  a  country  woman — your  soldiers  broke  into  our 
house — they  pillaged,  stole,  got  drunk!     When  they 
[34  1 


PATRIE 

drank  all  they  could  they  beat  my  husband  to  death. 
They  roasted  my  son  alive,  in  order  to  make  him 
confess  where  we  had  hidden  our  gold !  Drunk  with 
blood,  they  took  my  pure  and  innocent  daughter,  a 
girl  of  sixteen,  threw  her  about  from  one  to  the  other 
— for  fun,  they  said — until  she  died  of  shame  and 
anger!  And  I  was  praying,  calling  to  God,  who  is 
deaf!     He  didn't  do  a  thing!     There  is  no  God! 

All  [revolted  at  the  idea].     Oh!     Oh! 

Wo^L\N  [turning  to  the  soldiers].  No,  there  is  no 
God!  You  are  highway  robbers  and  brutes!  Why 
does  He  let  you  behave  as  you  do?  He  doesn't  avenge 
our  wrongs.  /  had  to  do  it!  I  myself!  I  made 
them  all  drink,  more  and  more,  so  much  that  they 
fell  down  dead  drunk.  I  locked  every  door  and 
window  of  the  house,  and  set  it  on  fire,  and  burned 
them  all !  Burned  them  alive,  and  heard  them  howl 
inside!  I  regret  only  one  thing:  that  they  died 
too  soon,  and  that  all  of  you  were  not  with  them,  so 
that  I  could  tear  your  hearts  to  pieces  with  my  finger- 
nails, and  gnaw  them  vn\h  my  teeth — you  devils! 

Soldiers  [fj/rioi/s/?/].  She's  blaspheming !  Death! 
Drown  the  sorceress! 

NoiR.  [to  Vargas  and  Delrio].  Suppose  we  give 
her  over  to  them  ? 

[35  1 


PATRIE 

Vargas.     Good ! 

NoiR.     We'll  give  her  to  you !    Take  her  away ! 
[The  soldiers,  with  joyful  cries,  seize  her.     A 
bell  rings,  and  the  drums  beat.] 
Vargas  [standing  up  loith  Noircarmes  and  Del- 
Rio].     TheAngelus! 

[  The  soldiers  fall  to  their  knees.     There  is  silence 
as  the  bell  continues  striking.] 
Rys.   [who  stands  without  taking  his  hat  off;  to  La 
Tremoille  in  an  undertone].     Please,  please.  Mar- 
quis, take  off  your  hat! 

La  Tr.  [aside  to  Rysoor].     Will  you  take  off  yours, 
Monsieur  le  Comte? 
Rys.     No! 
LaTr.     Then  I  shall  keep  on  mine! 

[The    Angelus   ceases   striking.     The   soldiers 
rise  as  the  drum  beats,  and  take  the  shrieking 
woman  away.] 
Soldiers.     Drown  her !     Drown  her ! 
\N OMAN  [as  she  is  carried  out].     Cut-throats!    Kill 
me,  torture  me!     You  can't  have  back  the  lives  of 
the  men  I  killed ! 

Rys.  [aside].     What  frightful  torture!     Will  this 
never  end  ?     My  God ! 

NoiR.  [wJio,  together  with  Delrio  has  reseated  him- 
[36] 


PATRIE 

self].  Let  us  make  haste.  Messieurs;  it  is  nearly 
night  already.  [Catching  sight  of  Rysoor.]  Who  is 
that  over  there? 

MiG.  Monseigneur,  a  citizen  who  has  just  been 
arrested.     A  spy  has  reported  him. 

NoiR.     What  is  his  name? 

Rys.  [advancing  toivard  Noircarmes].  My  name 
is  Count  de  Rysoor! 

Vargas  [who  has  been  standing  in  order  to  warm  his 
feet,  suddenly  turning  round] .  The  Count  de  Rysoor? 
[To  Noircarmes.]  I  have  certain  notes  regarding 
this  prisoner,  who  deserves  special  attention.  [To 
Rysoor.]  Wius  not  Your  Grace  one  of  the  chief 
officers  of  the  citj-  under  the  Queen  Regent? 

Rys.  I  was  so  honored,  and  Madame  la  Regente 
deigned  to  receive  me  at  her  councils. 

Delrio.  Then  we  should  have  no  reason  to 
wonder  that  matters  turned  out  so  badly  in  her  time. 

Vargas  [at  the  table,  about  to  sit  doivn].  You  are 
charged  with  having  attended  the  celebrated  banquet 
at  the  Hotel  de  Culembourg! 

Rys.     Yes,  Monsieur. 

Vargas.     You  confess  to  having  worn  the  cos- 
tume of  the  Queen's  family — the  Wallet  and  Shield — 
insignia  of  the  revolt  against  royal  authority? 
[37  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  I  beg  to  differ :  I  am  emphatically  opposed 
to  senseless  buffoonery,  and  have  given  my  opinion 
to  Monsieur  dc  Brederode,  who  agrees  with  the  Prince 
of  Orange. 

Vargas  [sitting  down].  Good!  Let  us  speak  of 
the  Prince  of  Orange!  You  are  accused  of  being  a 
friend  of  his ! 

Rys.  I  am  his  childliood  friend,  Monsieur — one 
of  his  most  faithful  friends. 

NoiR.     Of  that  rebel.? 

Delrio.     Heretic? 

Rys.  He  lives  according  to  the  dictates  of  his 
conscience.  Happy  the  man  who  can  lay  his  head 
on  the  pillow  without  having  obeyed  another  master ! 

Vargas.  Your  being  simply  a  friend  is  not  so  im- 
portant; you  are  cited  as  his  accomplice.  You  are 
here  to  clear  yourself  of  that  suspicion. 

Rys.  If  your  Excellencies  will  be  good  enough  to 
let  me  hear  of  what  I  am  accused,  I  shall  answer. 

Vargas  [to  whom  Miguel  has  given  a  note].  You 
are  charged,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  with  having  dis- 
appeared and  been  absent  from  this  city  for  a  period 
of  four  days.  The  object  of  this  sojourn  was  an  in- 
terview with  William  the  Silent. 

Rys.     Who  makes  that  charge.? 
[38] 


PATRIE 

Vargas  [pointing  to  a  spy,  who  comes  forward  to  the 
right].     This  man!     Tell  him  what  you  know. 

Spy,  I  know  that  Monsieur  le  Comte  left  his 
home  Saturday  at  noon,  and  only  returned  to-day, 
Tuesday,  after  Vespers. 

Rys.  That  fellow  is  a  groom  who  was  discharged 
from  my  service  for  theft !  For  the  accomplishment 
of  his  base  profession  he  gets  six  sous  a  day  from 
headquarters.  If  I  were  to  ask  him  to  lay  his 
hand  on  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  swear  I  had 
never  left  my  door,  I  should  merely  have  to  offer 
him  twelve. 

[  The  soldiers  laugh;  their  jeers  serve  as  accom- 
paniment to  the  spy's  exit.] 

NoiR.  Silence!  [The  spy  disappears.]  Here  is 
another  proof :  the  clerk  of  the  court  presented  him- 
self at  your  home  yesterday,  Monday,  during  the 
afternoon — you  were  not  there. 

Rys.     How  was  I  to  know  he  was  coming? 

Vargas.  Very  well;  but  when  your  wife  was 
questioned  she  was  very  much  embarrassed,  and 
answered  that  you  had  gone  out ! 

Rys.     Well,  so  I  had! 

Vargas.     Very  good;    but  you  must  prove  that 
you  were  at  home  when  the  curfew  rang ! 
(39  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  Let  your  Excellencies  ask  me  to  give  you 
proof  of  that  by  a  witness ! 

NoiR.  You  will  have  a  chance  of  doing  that,  and 
easily.  You  are,  as  a  rich  merchant,  lodging  a 
Spanish  oflBcer  at  your  home. 

Rys.     Yes;  Captain  Rincon  and  three  soldiers. 

NoiR.  [to  Miguel].  Have  Captain  Rincon  brought 
at  once.  [Soldiers  run  out.]  Your  Grace  may  be 
seated.  If  the  captain's  statement  does  not  con- 
stitute sure  proof  that  you  were  at  home  last  night, 
then  your  absence  is  a  certainty,  and  you  may  as 
well  confess  to  the  other  charges ! 

[During  the  following  dialogue  Noircarmes, 
Vargas,  and  Delrio  sign  documents.] 

Rys.  God's  will  be  done!  [He  returns  to  his 
'place] 

La  Tr.  [in  an  undertone].  Well,  that's  over!  Let 
us  not  lose  hope ! 

Rys.  [aside,  quickly].  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  I  am 
a  dead  man ! 

La  Tr.  Good  God !  is  that  so?  Did  you  leave  the 
city? 

Rys.  For  four  days!  The  captain  will  swear  I 
was  away.     I  haven't  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  live! 

La  Tr.     Ah,  Monsieur  le  Comte! 
[40] 


PATRIE 

Rys.  INIonsieur,  every  minute  is  numbered.  I 
have  a  cruel  favor  to  ask  of  you. 

LaTr.     With  all  my  heart! 

Rys.  If  you  ever  escape  from  this  hell,  as  I  sin- 
cerely hope  you  will,  go  to  the  Place  du  Grand-Mar- 
che,  where  I  live,  see  the  Countess  de  Rysoor,  and 
tell  her  what  they  have  done  to  me. 

La  Tr.     I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  I  will  do  it. 

Rys.  Break  the  news  gently,  you  understand? 
Do  not  tell  it  bluntly,  but  come  gradually  to  the 
point.  Although  I  may  appear  ridiculous  to  you. 
Monsieur  le  Comte,  with  my  gray  hair,  I  love  my 
wife  with  the  p<assion  of  a  youth  of  twenty;  and  if  I 
show  any  weakness  now  it  is  not  the  soldier  who 
trembles,  but  the  husband  who  fears  the  separation 
to  come,  and  who  docs  not  consider  it  cowardly  to 
shed  a  tear  at  the  thought  of  lost  happiness. 

La  Tr.  You  may  rely  on  me.  Monsieur.  But 
doubtless  your  errand  from  the  city  was  for  a  purpose 
- — there  was  some  secret  plan? 

Rys.     Yes. 

La  Tr.  Well,  treat  me  as  a  friend,  please;  I  beg 
you,  and  if  I  can  help 

Rys.     Many  thanks!     But  before  I  was  arrested, 
thank  God,  I  had  taken  the  necessary  precautions ! 
[411 


PATRIE 

La  Tr.     Good! 

Rys.     I  shall  not  be  saved,  but  I  shall  be  avenged ! 

MiG.     Captain  Rincon ! 

Enter  Captain  Rincon. 

NoiR.     Step  forward,  Captain  Rincon.     Do  you 
live  with  the  Count  de  Rysoor?     With  that  person? 

RiN.     Yes,  Monseigneur,  together  with  three  of 
my  men. 

NoiR.     Since  when.'' 

RiN.     Since  the  Sunday  of  the  Purification — last 
week. 

Vargas.     Good !     Have  you  noticed  during  these 
past  four  days  that  Monsieur  de  Rysoor  was  at  home? 

RiN.     Yesterday,  during  the  day,  Monseigneur — 
he  was  not. 

[The  soldiers  show  interest.] 

Vargas,  Delrio,  and  Noircarmes  [triumphantly]. 
Last  night? 

[Rysoor  moves  about.] 

RiN.     Yes,  Monsieur  le  Prevot — yes,  last  night  he 
was  home! 

Vargas.     Think  well,  Rincon — are  you  positive? 
Last  night,  you  say,  you  saw  Monsieur  de  Rysoor — 
the  man  who  sits  over  there? 
[42] 


PATRIE 

RiN.     I  am  positive.     I  fought  with  him! 
[General  excitement.] 

Rys.  [aside,  and  greatly  surprised].     With  me? 

NoiR.     Explain! 

Rix,  Last  night,  Messieurs,  I  had  dined  ex- 
tremely well,  and  when  I  came  home,  my  head  was 
heavy!  Not  a  light  to  be  seen!  I  went  upstairs, 
striking  each  stair  with  the  end  of  my  sword.  All  of 
a  sudden  some  one  comes  running  out  of  Monsieur  le 
Comte's  room.  A  lady  is  holding  a  light  for  him — he 
pushes  against  me !  "  Who's  there.'*"  I  shout.  "  Who's 
there,  yourself?  Can't  I  leave  my  own  room.^"  I 
draw  my  sword  and  raise  it.  Monsieur  le  Comte 
snatches  it  from  me,  throws  it  downstairs,  and  shouts 
to  me :  "  Drunkard ! "  and  then  disappears !  "  Drunk- 
ard" I  couldn't  swallow,  you  know,  though  I  icas 
drunk;  and  then  I  saw  I  was  in  the  wTong  to  maltreat 
the  head  of  the  house,  so  I  went  calmly  to  sleep  on  the 
stairs. 

Vargas.     Have  you  heard.  Monsieur  le  Comte? 

La  Tr.  [to  Rysoor].  Monsieur,  you  are  being 
spoken  to ! 

Rys.  [making  an  effort].  Yes,  Monsieur,  I 
hear. 

Noir.     Is  the  story  true? 
[43  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  [making  an  effort  to  appear  calm].  In  every 
detail. 

Vargas.     Then  you  were  the  man? 

Rys.  [standing  up,  very  pale].  Who  could  liave 
been  coming  from  my  room  at  such  a  time  if  not  I 
myseK?     Did  the  captain  dovibt  it  for  an  instant? 

RiN.     Not  for  a  second. 

Rys.  Your  Excellencies  now  see  that  I  was  at 
home  last  night! 

Delrio.     We  must  believe  it. 

NoiR.  [to  Vargas].     Wliat  do  you  think? 

ViiRGAS  [in  an  undertone].  Let  us  close  the  case! 
We  shall  be  able  to  get  him  again. 

Delrio.     Let  us  have  supper! 

NoiR.  Yes,  we've  done  enough  to-day!  [The 
soldiers  move  about.]  Monsieur  le  Comte,  you  are  free ! 
[NoiRCARMES,  Delrio,  and  Vargas  rise,  and 
the  soldiers  prepare  to  escort  them.] 

La  Tr.  [to  Rysoor,  aloud  and  joyfully].  Saved, 
Monsieur! 

NoiR.  [noticing  La  Tremoille].     Wait!     Who  is 

that? 

La  Tr.  [nonchalantly].  Oh,  I  beg  you  not  to 
trouble  about  me! 

NoiR.     I  beg  your  pardon  ? 
[44] 


PATRIE 

La  Tr.  Nothing-.  I  am  not  worth  it!  Good 
heavens,  let  us  have  supper! 

NoiR.     Well,  well,  wiio  are  you? 

La  Tr.  Less  than  nothing.  Marquis  de  la  Tre- 
moille! 

Vargas.     Monsieur  de  la  Tremoille! 
\All  take  off  their  hats.] 

NoiR.     Taken  prisoner  at  Jemmingen! 

La  Tr.     Of  course! 

Vargas.     And  here? 

La  Tr.  [joJcingly].     As  you  see! 

Noir.  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  I  might  have  you 
executed  this  moment. 

La  Tr.  [(jayly].  Oh,  you  wouldn't  think  of  doing 
that! 

Noir.     I  beg  your  pardon? 

La  Tr.  [as  before] .  I  say  no !  Come,  let  us  reason : 
at  this  precise  moment  I  am  worth  a  hundred  thou- 
sand crowns — the  price  of  my  ransom!  Dead,  T 
should  not  be  worth  a  sou!  The  Duke  of  All)a 
knows  more  than  to  kill  a  hundred  thousand  good 
crowns  in  flesh  and  blood,  belonging  to  him! 

Delrio.     That  is  true,  and  yet 

La  Tr.  [lowering  his  voice].  Especially  as  you 
have  no  money! 

[45  1 


PATRIE 

Vargas.     But 

La  Tr.  [gayly].  You  haven't,  have  you?  I  know 
the  state  of  your  finances ! 

Delrio.     Monsieur! 

La  Tr.  [as  before,  but  speaking  naturally].  One 
word  more,  Monsieur:  if  I  shout  to  your  soldiers  that 
you  have  no  money  to  pay  them  their  next  month's 
wages 

NoiR.  [quickly].     Monsieur  le  Marquis 


La  Tr.  [as  before].  You  see?  Go  and  have  your 
supper.  Messieurs;  go,  I  beg  you.  Give  my  best 
compHments  to  the  Duke  of  Alba! 

NoiR.  Monsieur  le  Marquis  will  present  them  in 
person,  for  he  will  kindly  follow  me  to  the  Palace. 

La  Tr.     Ha!  Ha! 

NoiR.  Whether  Monsieur  le  Marquis  is  willing  or 
not! 

La  Tr.  Very  well.  Messieurs,  but  on  one  condi- 
tion: that  you  follow  me,  for  I  will  march  ahead! 

NoiR.     Monsieur  le  Marquis 

La  Tr.  [loith  dignity  and  determination].  Mon- 
sieur !  At  the  Court  of  France  the  family  of  La  Tre- 
moille  walks  directly  after  the  King.  I  did  not  come 
to  Brussels  to  do  honor  to  the  Grand  Provost  of  Bra- 
bant. 

[46] 


PATRIE 

Vargas  [impatiently].  Do  as  you  please.  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis,  only  let  us  go ! 

La  Tr.  Very  well.  [He  turns  round  and  sees  sol- 
diers barring  his  ivay].  Have  these  fellows  make 
way  for  us — I  dislike  the  rabble!  [He  comes  to  Ry- 
sooR.]  Monsieur  le  Comte,  my  heartiest  regards. 
I  shall  look  fon\ard  with  extreme  impatience  to 
seeing  you  again!  [To  Noircarmes,  Delrio,  and 
Vargas,  as  he  puts  on  his  hat.]  Messieurs,  you  may 
follow  me ! 

[He  precedes  them  out,  to  the  beat  of  drums. 
TJie  soldiers  take  up  their  torches  again. 
The  crowd  gradually  disperses,  until  scarcely 
any  one  but  the  sentinels  at  the  back  are  to  be 
seen.     The  stage  lies  in  partial  obscurity.] 

Rys.  [recovering  from  the  shock  he  has  suffered,  and 
crossing  the  stage.  To  Rincon,  loho  looks  after  the 
departing  soldiers].  Captain!  Captain!  One  word, 
if  you  please! 

RiN.  [coming  toward  Rysoor].  At  Your  Grace's 
service ! 

Rys.  [scanning  Rincon  anxiously].  You  have  just 
saved  my  life,  Monsieur,  but  you  must  admit  that 
your  generosity  led  you  to — to  modify  the  facts  a 
little? 


PATRIE 

RiN.  I  told  only  the  truth.  Your  Grace  knows 
that! 

Rys.  [still  nervous].  No,  I  do  not  know  that! 
[RiNCON  shows  surprise.]  I  beg  your  pardon,  Cap- 
tain, I've  been  so  disturbed  since  my  arrest!  Now, 
let  me  see!  Remember,  you  were  drunk — you  ad- 
mitted that — then  it  was  night,  and  very  dark!  You 
might  imagine  a  thousand  things  under  those  cir- 
cumstances. 

RiN.     Now,  now,  I  think  I'm  able  to 

Rys.  Even  I — I  myself — I  am  not  very  sure  that 
it  was  I  who  left  that  room — the  one  you  mentioned ! 

RiN.  Your  room  it  was,  by  God!  You  sent  me 
down  those  stairs  quickly  enough !  My  sore  shoulder 
would  remind  me,  even  if  my  memory  failed. 

Rys.     But  that  woman  who  held  the  light — are 


you  sure 

RiN.  Now  you  are  making  fun  of  me.  Monsieur 
le  Marquis!  I  saw  Madame  la  Comtesse  as  plainly 
as  I  see  you  at  this  moment.  I  can  still  hear  you 
saying:  "Come  back,  Madame!  Come  back  at 
once  and  be  careful!" 

Rys.     I  said  that? 

RiN.     Those  arc  the  very  words! 

Rys.     And  then  did  the  door  close.' 
[48] 


PATRIE 

RiN.     At  once!     Now  do  you  understand? 

Rys.     Yes!   Thank  you,  Monsieur,  thank  you! 

RiN.     No  ill-feeling?     Oh!  shake  hands! 

Rys.     Shake  hands? 

RiN.     Yes.     That  was  an  awful  cut  you  got  from 
the  sword  you  took  from  me ! 

Rys.     Oh,  yes,  I 

RiN.     And  the  way  you  shrieked !     When  I  picked 
up  ray  sword  it  was  covered  with  blood ! 

Rys.     Ah,  yes! 

Rix.     The  right  hand.     [He  points  to  Rysoor's 
right  hand,  which  is  gloved]. 

Rys.     Yes. 

Rix.     It  will  trouble  you  for  two  or  three  days. 

Rys.     Possibly. 

RiN.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  should  have  shown 
it  as  additional  proof  to  their  Excellencies. 

Rys.     It's  only  a  trifle. 

RiN.     But  an  indisputable  proof ! 

[He  goes  up-stage. 

Rys.  [qiiicldy].     Yes! 

RiN.  [returning  to  Rysoor].     I  beg  your  pardon? 
[The  night  patrol  is  heard  off  the  back  of  the 
stage.] 

Rys.     Nothing!     Good-bye,  Cai)tain. 
[49  1 


PATRIE 

RiN.  Ah,  here  is  the  patrol !  [  Turning  to  the  right 
as  he  cries  out.]     Close  your  gates ! 

Voice  of  Miguel  [in  the  distance].  Close  your 
gates ! 

Distant  Voices.     Close  your  gates! 

RiN.  Monsieur  le  Comte,  it  is  time  to  close  for 
the  night.  Go  home,  and  do  not  stay  around  the 
streets.     You  are  now  out  of  trouble. 

[He  goes  up-stage. 

Rys.  [aside,  greatly  distressed].  Out  of  trouble! 
Ha !  There  is  no  end  to  my  trouble — it  is  only  begin- 
ning now!  [He  snakes  his  way  slowly  up-stage. 

RiN.  [at  the  back].     Put  up  the  chains! 

Voices  of  Soldiers  [in  the  distance].  Put  up  the 
chains ! 

Voices  [at  a  greater  distatice].    Put  up  the  chains! 

Curtain. 


ACT  II 


ACT   II 

Scene  I:  In  Rysoor's  home.  The  scene  represents 
a  Flemish  interior;  it  is  a  large  room,  richly  but 
severely  decorated.  Everywhere  are  life-size  wood 
carvings;  the  walls  are  hung  with  tapestries.  The 
ceiling  is  wainscoted.  Down-stage  to  the  left  is  a 
small  door;  halfway  up-stage  on  the  same  side  is  the 
large  and  principal  entrance  to  the  room;  at  the  hack, 
a  little  to  the  left  of  the  centre,  is  a  huge  fireplace  in 
which  a  fire  is  burning.  Up-stage  to  the  right  is  an 
arched  Renaissance  window,  obliquely  situated,  and 
of  stained  glass;  this  opens  upon  the  Place  de 
VHotel-de-Ville,  ivhich  can  be  seen  outside  by  the  light 
of  the  moon.  Down-stage  to  the  right  is  a  Flemish 
chest  which  is  loaded  with  rich  plate  and  jewels. 
To  the  left  is  a  table,  with  chairs  on  either  side,  and 
a  high  tabouret  in  front  of  it.  To  the  right  is 
a  Flemish  bench  with  room  for  two  persons.  As 
the  curtain  rises  Gudule  and  the  Majordomo  are 
present. 


PATRIE 

Majordomo  [standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  dining- 
room].  Has  Madame  la  Comtesse  not  returned  from 
service  this  evening? 

GuDULE  [who  is  engaged  in  arranging  things  at  the 
right  of  the  stage],     I  think  this  is  she. 

[The  door  opens  and  Dolores  enters,  crosses 
the  stage,  takes  off  her  rnantle,  and  lays  down 
her  Book  of  Hours.  After  a  pause,  during 
2vhich  GuDULE  lays  the  mantle  aside  on  a 
chair  to  the  right  of  the  fireplace,  Dolores 
speaks.] 
Dolores.  Has  Monsieur  Karloo  come  yet? 
GuDULE.     No,  Madame. 

Majordomo.     Has  Madame  la  Comtesse  any  or- 
ders to  give  for  the  supper? 
Dolores.     What  time  is  it? 
Majordomo.     Just  eight,  Madame. 
Dolores.     No.     Serve  it  later!     Leave  me  now! 
GuDULE.     Madame — Monsieur  Karloo! 
Dolores  [joyfully].     At  last! 

Enter  Karloo. 

Karloo  [who  is  pale  and  nervous,  crosses  the  stage 
and  kisses  Dolores'  hand.  In  an  undertone].  Send 
juvuy  the  servants! 

[54] 


1»ATT{IR 

Dolores  [also  in  an  undertone].     What  has  hap- 
pened?    Why  are  you  so  pale? 

Karloo  [in  a  whisper].     I  must  see  you  alone  for 
an  instant!     For  God's  sake,  only  an  instant! 

Dolores  [also  in  a  whisper].    I  can't — at  this  time! 
They  would  suspect ! 

Karloo  [as  before].     Do  send  them  away! 

Dolores.     Gudule! 

GuDULE.     Madame? 

Dolores.     Lay  the  cloth ! 

[Gudule  and  the  Majordomo  go  out,  leaving 
open  one  side  of  the  donble-door,  while  Kar- 
loo lays  his  cape  and  hat  on  the  bench  which 
is  under  the  tvindow.] 

Dolores  [shoiving  anxiety*].  Are  you  hurt?  What 
is  that  wound?     Your  hand?t 

Karloo.     Nothing  at  all ! 

Dolores.     May  I  see  it?     Show  me! 

Karloo  [showing  his  hand,  which  is  gloved].     Yes, 
you  can  see  it — but  who  would  guess? 

Dolores.     That  soldier? 


*  There  is  an  author's  nolo  here  to  the  effect  that  "  this  part  of 
the  scene  is  played  in  an  undertone,  while  each  of  the  speakers 
appears  to  be  on  his  guard." — Translator. 

t  She  uses  the  familiar — "tu" — form;  they  employ  this  through- 
out the  play. 

[55  1 


PATRIE 

Karloo.  The  drunkard.  He  doesn't  remember ! 
No,  that  is  not  what  troubles  me ! 

Dolores  [nervously].     What  then? 

Karloo  [ivith  an  effort].     He  is  back! 

Dolores  [quicJdy].     No! 

Karloo.     Yes.     Galena  has  seen  him. 

Dolores.     He  has  not  come  home  yet ! 

Karloo.  No,  but  he  is  in  the  citj^ — I  know 
that! 

Dolores  [sitting  down,  after  a  pa^ise].  Well,  we 
might  have  expected  that,  might  we  not? 

Karloo  [looking  at  her  with  a  kind  of  terror  in  his 
face].  Dolores,  you  say  that  as  if  you  had  hoped 
that  he  would  never  return! 

Dolores.     Don't  you  wish 

Karloo  [quickly].  May  God  strike  nic  if  I  ever 
liarbored  so  horrible  a  thought! 

Dolores.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I'm  in  despair — 
I  'm  disgusted — at  the  idea  of  his  return !  God  should 
never  have  allowed  it ! 

Karloo  [sitting  down  near  her].     God? 

Dolores.     Yes,  God!     That  man  is  a  traitor! 

Karloo.     How  do  you  know  tiuit? 

Dolores.  Ah,  what  I  know!  Do  you  think  he 
can  deceive  me  by  telling  me  he  is  going  away  on 
[  5G1 


PATRIE 

business?  And  when  he  goes  out  at  night,  or  to  the 
Porte  de  Lou  vain,  to  attend  Protestant  service? 

Karloo.     He? 

Dolores.  I  am  telling  you  what  he  says!  You 
know  nothing  of  it,  of  course!  You  are  a  Catholic, 
like  me!  And  he  would  not  be  likely  to  choose  you 
for  a  confidant,  and  tell  you  of  his  apostasy !  But  I 
tell  you  he  goes  every  other  day  to  the  place  I  men- 
tioned. For  three  months  he  has  been  going.  Once 
I  followed  him,  without  his  knowing  it. 

Karloo  [nervously].     Did  you  do  that? 

Dolores.     Yes,  I  did! 

Karloo,  And  why  do  you  imagine  that  this 
latest  journey  of  his 

Dolores  [interrupting  him].  These  people,  for 
instance,  who  keep  coming  all  the  time  to  inquire 
about  his  return !  And  see  how  careful  he  is  to  keep 
secret  the  fact  that  he  is  away!  And  the  fact  that 
he  has  gone  away,  at  the  risk  of  his  life!  And  his 
beliefs,  finally,  which  perhaps  he  doesn't  confide  to 
you,  w'ho  are  not  a  rebel.  But  /  see.  I  can  pene- 
trate even  his  silences.  Now,  for  instance,  the  other 
week,  when  you  saved  Doiia  Rafaele  from  the  howl- 
ing mob  that  tried  to  avenge  itself  on  the  Duke  of 
Alba  through  his  daughter — how  did  he  receive  the 
[  57  1 


PATRIE 

news  of  that?  He  merely  said:  "You  did  your 
duty!"  A  true  brother  in  the  cause  would  have 
taken  you  in  his  arms!  I  assure  you,  my  woman's 
instinct  is  not  mistaken !  And  how  could  he  do  any- 
thing but  hate  the  Duke  of  iVlba?  A  Calvinist! 
Traitor  to  his  God,  traitor  to  his  King!  Ha!  And 
I  am  also  positive  that  that  man  is  conspiring 

Karloo   [suddenly   springing   up].     Not   another 

word,  you What  if  we  should  be  overheard? 

[As  he  looks  toward  the  door,  he  goes  behind  the  back  of 
the  chair.] 

Dolores  [oblivious  of  Karloo's  demand].  It 
makes  little  difference! 

Karloo.  It  would  mean  death  to  him — and 
others,  too! 

Dolores.  What  others?  You  are  not  one  of  his 
band,  are  you? 

Karloo  [quickly].     What  an  idea! 

Dolores.  Then  what  do  I  care  for  the  others? 
And  for  him,  above  all?  Then  we  could  love  one 
another.     It  would  be  no  crime  then! 

Karloo,     That  wish  is  another  crime ! 

Dolores.  Isn't  living  as  we  live  worse  than  any- 
thing else?     And,  more,  a  horrible  torture? 

Karloo.     My  God!  yes. 
[58  1 


PATllIE 

Dolores.  ^YelI,  then?  [There  is  a  pause.  Kar- 
LOO  is  standing  ivith  his  elbows  on  the  back  of  the 
chair,  his  head  resting  on  his  hands.]  Well,  we  must 
decide,  must  we  not?  This  cannot  go  on!  ^Yhat 
shall  we  do? 

Karloo,  What  we  have  been  doing :  lie,  lie,  and 
then  lie! 

Dolores.  Don't  you  find  that  disgusting?  Is 
it  not  hateful  that  we  don't  dare  talk  during  the  day 
with  that  door  standing  open,  for  fear  of  being  spied 
upon?  Even  the  night  brings  its  dangers — last  night, 
for  instance ! 

Karloo.     Oh,  the  thought  is  always  with  me! 

Dolores.  What  an  awful  ordeal  is  the  return  of 
this  man!  Think  of  it!  Oh,  I  love  you!  I  am 
yours!     [She  rises  and  goes  to  the  left.] 

Kaeloo.     Dolores ! 

Dolores.  You  don't  care  whether  he  comes  back 
or  not!  What  harm  can  it  do  you,  after  all?  The 
lie  of  a  friendly  handshake  and  a  kind  word — that  is 
all.     But  I? 

Karloo.     Be  careful,  the  servants  are  near! 

Dolores.     Then  try  to  close  the  door. 

Karloo.     How? 

Dolores.     Oh,  casually! 
[59  1 


PATRIE 

Kaeloo.     I  can't. 

Dolores.  You  men!  Let  me  do  it !  [In  a  rather 
high-pitched,  affected  voice.]  Won't  the  fire  burn, 
Karloo?     I'm  frozen  to  death  here! 

Karloo  [7iear  the  fireplace].  Indeed,  Madame,  it 
is  cold! 

Dolores  [calmly].  It  must  be  the  open  door. 
[Calling.]     Gudule!     Gudule ! 

GuDULE  [appearing].     Madame? 

Dolores.     Close  the  door. 

Gudule.  Very  well,  Madame.  [She  clones  the 
door  and  disappears.] 

Dolores.  That  is  done!  Now  let  me  tell  you 
the  truth,   Karloo!     I   cannot   stand  this   life  any 

longer.     If  you  were  as  weary  as  I  am [She 

sits  down  on  a  chair  to  the  right  of  the  table.] 

Karloo.  Am  I  weary  of  it.'*  Thanks  be  to  God, 
at  last  I  can  talk  freely !  Don't  you  think  I,  too,  am 
tortured  every  instant  by  these  lies  I  force  on  myself? 
My  eyes  lie,  my  mouth,  this  very  hand  of  mine  lies! 
It's  so  utterly  unworthy!  It  is  infamous!  If  that 
is  what  you  mean — yes,  I  am  weary  of  it  all — terribly 
weary — unspeakably ! 

Dolores  [ncrvoiishj].     So  much? 

Karloo.     Yes,  yes — so  nuich ! 
I  00  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores.  And  why?  After  all,  what  do  you 
suffer?  For  your  love  I  live  in  agony  in  this  world 
and  am  damned  in  the  next!  ^Yhat  are  you  sacri- 
ficing for  me? 

Karloo  [coining  down  to  the  left  of  the  table].  What 
am  I  sacrificing  for  you?  My  best  and  most  sacred 
possessions:  ray  honor  and  my  loyalty,  my  con- 
science, my  self-respect,  the  unparalleled  joy  to  be 
able  to  say:  "I  am  an  honest  man — I  am  doing  my 
duty!"  You  sacrifice  your  future  life,  I  am  sacri- 
ficing this  one,  and  I  bear  my  damnation  about  with 
me  all  the  time!  Here  is  my  hell;  it  follows  me 
everywhere:  contempt  for  myself! 

[He  goe.i  upstage  again. 

Dolores  [looking  at  him  uneasily].     Karloo! 

Karloo  [returning  to  her,  and  standing  above  the 
table].  Think  of  it:  the  part  I  play  in  your  house  is 
hateful,  revolting.  This  man  calls  me  friend,  re- 
ceives me  with  open  arms  and  in  full  confidence — 
a  most  generous  and  devoted  man!  And  I  deceive 
him,  like  the  lowest  of  blackguards.  His  friendship, 
so  freely  offered,  I  use  as  a  dagger  to  cut  his  throat! 
Nor  is  that  all !  This  man  of  all  men  is  the  most  vir- 
tuous— I  worship  his  goodness — yes,  it  is  an  awful 
thing  to  say,  it  seems  like  the  worst  of  follies:  I 
[61] 


PATRIE 

would  strangle  the  person  who  dared  deceive  him, 
even  as  /  am  deceiving  him!  /  am  your  lover,  and 
I  lack  the  courage  to  stop.  God  knows  I  hated  him 
as  you  hate  him,  but  remorse You  are  for- 
tunate because  you  hate  him.  I  worship  him.  Yes, 
I  love  him!  That  is  the  most  infamous  of  all!  I 
love  him  and  I  lie  to  him,  deceive  him,  rob  him ! 

Dolores  [terror-stricken].  Don't  you  love  me  any 
more? 

Karloo  [ivith  a  gesture  indicative  of  despair].     Ah! 

Dolores  [quickly].  No!  You  used  not  to  have 
those  scruples! 

Karloo.  Remorse,  rather!  And  you  blamed  me 
just  now  for  having  none! 

Dolores  [as  before,  ivith  anxiety].  Now  you  have 
too  many!  Tell  me  the  truth — tell  it — don't  you 
love  me  any  more? 

Karloo.     Oh,  if  I  could! 

Dolores.     You  see! 

Karloo  [approaching  her,  but  not  looking  at  her]. 
I  see!  Yes,  I  see  that  I  am  as  powerless  to  snatch 
from  my  heart  this  fatal  poison  as  I  was  to  prevent 
its  taking  root  there!  You  have  so  caught  me  by 
your  spells  and  magic,  you  love-sorceress,  that  in 
spite  of  myself  I  loved  you,  desired  you  with  my 
[62  1 


PATRIE 

whole  being,  and  now  even  as  I  curse  you  I  love  you, 
and  desire  you  more  than  ever  before ! 

Dolores  [standing  up].  Tell  me,  then,  do  you 
want  me  to  have  courage  for  us  both?  Shall  I  give 
you  your  liberty? 

KL^RLOO.     Dolores ! 

Dolores.  Then — adieu!  Go  away!  I  don't 
want  to  see  you  again ! 

Kaeloo  [drawing  her  passionately  to  him].  Ah !  do 
that — and  I  will  kill  you! 

Dolores  [throwing  herself  into  his  arms].  Yes, 
yes,  you  love  me!  Take  me  away  from  that  man — 
take  me  away ! 

Karloo.     Take  you  away? 

Dolores.  To  the  end  of  the  world — we  two  to- 
gether !     Let  us  be  free !     To-night  let  us  go ! 

Karloo.     Good  God!  that's  not  possible! 

Dolores.     Why? 

Karloo.     No  one  is  allowed  to  leave  the  city! 

Dolores.     That's  true — but  to-morrow? 

Karloo.  Sh!  Some  one  is  coming !  [They  sepa- 
rate quickly.] 

Enter  Gudule  suddenly. 

Gudule  [nervously].     Madame  la  Comtesse,  it's 
Jonas  the  bellringer;   he  brings  bad  news. 
fG3l 


PATRIE 

Karloo.     Bad  news? 

Jonas  [as  he  enters,  nervously].  Madame,  has 
Monsieur  le  Comte  come  in  yet? 

Dolores.     No. 

Jonas.  Then  an  accident's  happened!  He  was 
arrested  this  afternoon! 

Karloo.     Arrested? 

Jonas.     Yes,  Captain! 

Karloo  [going  quickly  toward  the  ivindow  to  get  his 
cape  and  hat,  ivhile  Jonas  and  Gudule  are  speaking 
in  the  doorway].     I'll  go  at  once. 

Dolores  [in  an  undertone].  What  are  you  going  to 
do? 

Karloo  [also  in  an  undertone].  Save  him,  if  I 
can! 

Dolores  [as  before].     You? 

Karloo.  Yes,  I.  [Aloud.]  Jonas,  torches  I  There, 
let  us  start!         [Jonas  goes  out  quickly  with  Gudule. 

Dolores.     You  are  not  going ! 

Karloo.     This  may  mean  his  death! 

Dolores.     Well? 

ILakloo  [coming  down- stage  right;  nervously].  Ah, 
Dolores,  you  make  me  afraid! 

Dolores.  You  make  me  pity  you!  Save  him, 
then !  My  husband !  My  master !  Too  bad  that  I 
[64  1 


PATRIE 

cannot  deceive  him  to-morrow  for  you!    Nor  you 
this  evening  for  him ! 

KarLiOO  [shocked].     Ah!  devil! 

Dolores  [passionately].     I  love  you! 

Jonas  [joyfully  announces  in  the  doorway].  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte! 

Enter  Rysoor. 

Karloo  [running  to  him  and  taking  his  hands 
effusively].  Thank  God,  you've  returned  aUve  from 
those  hangmen! 

Rys.  [shaking  his  hand,  and  keeping  an  eye  all 
the  u'hile  on  Dolores].  Then  you  knew  I  was 
arrested? 

Dolores  [going  to  him  and  offering  her  forehead  to 
be  kissed].  Jonas  just  brought  us  the  news,  my  dear 
master.     We  were  both  in  mortal  terror. 

Rys.  [taki7ig  her  hands  in  his  and  kissing  her  fore- 
head. He  looks  at  her  with  infinite  tenderness].  You 
are  trembling,  Dolores? 

Dolores.  Yes,  this  sudden  news — and  then  your 
arrival  an  instant  later! 

Rys.  Dolores!  There's  nothing  to  fear  now! 
Here  I  am  at  home  once  more,  in  the  midst  of  my 
loved  ones !    How  jjale  you  are ! 

Dolores  [trying  to  smile].     It's  nothing. 
[65  1 


PATRIE 

Karloo  [after  laying  his  cape  and  hat  on  the  table]. 
Natural — emotions ! 

Dolores.     Yes. 

[Rysoor  goes  up  to  the  window  and  lays  his 
sioord  on  the  bench.] 

Karloo  [aside  to  Dolores]  .     How  infamous  of  us ! 

Dolores  [aside  to  Karloo].  There  is  something 
worse!  [To  Rysoor,  who  returns  doion-stage.]  I 
shall  have  your  supper  served,  master.  You  must 
be  faint  with  hunger. 

Rys.  No!  I  have  some  business  affairs  to  discuss 
first  with  Karloo!  The  supper  may  wait.  And  let 
the  servants  retire! 

Dolores.     I  shall  see  to  it  at  once.      [She  goes  out. 

Rys.  [following  Dolores  with  his  eyes  until  she 
disappears].     Jonas,  close  the  door  and  keep  watch! 

Jonas.  Very  well,  master.  [He  takes  his  place  by 
the  door.] 

Rys.  [to  Karloo].  Quick  now!  Have  you  just 
seen  Galena? 

K\RLOO.  As  soon  as  you  arrived,  Jonas  came 
himself  to  tell  us:  Bakkerzeel,  Cornelis,  and  me! 
There  I  learned  of  your  arrival ! 

Rys.     And  the  results  accomplished? 

Karloo.     Everything!     The  Prince  of  Orange  is 
[66] 


PATRIE 

coming  to  help  us  with  his  most  powerful  supporters ; 
he  made  an  advance  under  cover  of  night,  through 
the  Forest  de  Soignes. 

Rys.  And  at  this  moment,  my  dear  Karloo,  he  is 
hidden  in  the  wood  of  La  Cambre,  one  quarter  of  a 
league's  distance  from  the  city. 

Karloo.     At  last!     And  to-night? 

Rys.  [taking  K.\rloo's  hands  in  his] .     To-night ! 

Karloo.  May  the  hour  of  battle,  of  liberation, 
be  blessed! 

Rys.     My  good,  my  brave  Karloo! 

Karloo.  You  can  never  know  how  I  thirst  after 
sacrifice!     I  feel  capable  of  the  most  exalted  deeds! 

Rys.  We  are  on  the  eve  of  great  things.  Is 
everything  prepared? 

Karloo.  Everything!  The  Weavers'  Guild 
marches  under  Bakkerzeel;  the  Tanners'  and  the 
Brewers'  under  Cornells ;  the  Civil  Guard  under  me! 

Rys.     By  the  way,  the  bailiff  has  gone 

Karloo.  To  my  home — to  order  disarmament. 
You  can  imagine  how  I  followed  his  orders!  This 
command,  too,  will  serve  our  cause. 

Rys.    How? 

Karloo  [pointing  outside  to  the  Place],  Those 
chains  around  the  Grande-Place  would  stop  the 
[67  1 


PATRIE 

Prince's  cavalry!  I  hope  to  get  permission  this 
evening  to  unhook  them,  on  the  pretext  that  I  must 
send  away  my  muskets. 

Rys.  Then  you  will  not  be  with  us  at  ten  o'clock, 
in  the  trench  by  the  Porte  de  Louvain? 

Karloo.  What  difference  will  that  make?  I  am 
not  especially  needed  there.  Here,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  can  have  all  my  men  ready  at  a  moment's 
notice— weapons  ready,  and  the  passage  free. 

Rys.     Then  we  shall  meet  at  the  Town  Hall. 

Karloo.     At  eleven,  by  Jonas'  door. 

Rys.  [going  to  the  table,  as  Karloo  goes  up-stage 
to  get  his  cape  and  Jiat] .     Jonas ! 

Jonas  [coming  downstage  to  Rysoor].  Your 
Honor? 

Rys.     Has  Galena  given  you  your  instructions? 

Jonas.     All. 

Rys.  How  about  the  soldier  who  was  forced  on 
you  as  a  comrade? 

Jonas.  The  trumpeter?  He's  there  in  the  middle 
of  the  Grande-Place,  asleep  in  the  snow ! 

Rys.     Drunk? 

Jonas.     Dead  drunk ! 

Rys.  Good!  Now,  go  away,  and  not  a  word, 
above  all,  to  your  wife ! 

[G8  1 


PATRIE 

Jonas  [at  tfie  small  door,  down-stage].    A  bellringer's 

wife!     Lord!     [Shoioing  his  tongue.]     A  bell-clapper ! 

[He  goes  out,  leaving  the  door  open. 

Rys.  [to  Karloo].     Are  you  going? 

Karloo.     Yes,  with  Jonas,  through  the  garden. 

Rys.  Go,  then,  my  dear  Karloo!  This  evening, 
as  never  before,  I  feel  the  need  of  pressing  a  loyal 
heart  to  ray  heart,  a  faithful  and  devoted  one  like 
yours ! 

Karloo  [troubled].     Until  to-night,  then! 

Rys.  [going  up  to  the  icindow  again].  Until  to- 
night ! 

Karloo  [about  to  leave;  aside].  This  agony!  I 
can  escape  him  still,  but  can  I  escape  from  myself.^ 

[He  goes  out. 

Rys.  [to  himself].  Patrie,  you  can  have  no  doubt 
of  my  devotion:  I  have  set  your  affairs  in  order  be- 
fore my  own! 

Enter  Dolores  through  the  large  door. 

Dolores.     Now!     [Stopping.]    Isn't  Karloo  here? 

Rys.  No,  Dolores,  ho  has  gone!  The  servants 
have  retired? 

Dolores  [going  to  a  position  above  the  table,  to  the 
right].     You  asked  to  have  them  out  of  the  way. 
169  1 


PATlllE 

Rys.  Yes,  I  wanted  to  be  quite  alone  with  you — 
I  have  something  very  important  to  say.  [He  goes 
upstage  above  her,  to  the  left,  closes  the  door,  then  re- 
turns.] 

Dolores  [anxiously].     To  me? 

Rys.     Yes. 

Dolores.     What  is  it?     You  seem  very  disturbed. 

Rys.  [looking  attentively  at  her].  Dolores,  some- 
thing has  happened  in  this  house  since  I  went  away. 
What  do  you  know  about  a  man  who  was  seen  leaving 
your  room  last  night? 

Dolores  [quicMy].     My  room? 

Rys.     Yes. 

Dolores  [as  before].     It  is  a  lie ! 

Rys.  No!  There  is  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt! 
For  the  sake  of  your  honor  and  mine,  only  one 
thing  remains  to  be  known :  why  was  that  man  there? 

Dolores.     What  do  I  know? 

Rys.     Let  us  try  to  learn  who 

Dolores.     Perhaps  one  of  the  maids 


Rys.  Then  how  did  it  happen  that  the  man  said, 
addressing  the  maid:  "It's  nothing — go  back — 
Madame!"  [A  gesture  of  surprise  from  Dolores.] 
Madame  was  the  word! 

Dolores  [terrified].     It's  a  lie! 
[70  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.     These  words  were  spoken  and  heard. 

Dolores  [losing  her  presence  of  mind].  Never! 
That  Spaniard  Ued! 

Rys.  [bursting  forth].  How  do  you  know  he  was  a 
Spaniard? 

Dolores  [panic-stricken].     Oh! 

Rys.  [beside  himself  with  anger].  Then  it  was  true! 
Poor,  miserable  woman !     Your  lover? 

Dolores.     Monsieur! 

Rys.     Dare  to  deny  it!     He  was  your  lover! 

Dolores  [resolutely].     Yes! 

Rys.     Ah! 

Dolores.  You  force  me  to  admit  it,  and  I  do 
admit  it! 

Rys.  And  you  don't  regret  it !  You  are  treacher- 
ous, disloyal!  You  are  not  even  afraid!  You  have 
no  particle  of  shame !  Haven't  you  even  the  modesty 
to  defend  yourself? 

Dolores.  Say  rather.  Monsieur,  that  I  have  not 
sunk  so  low :  do  not  blame  me  for  the  little  decency  I 
still  have,  the  decency  to  confess!  Yes,  it  is  true: 
I  am  guilty.  I  have  no  excuse  to  offer  you,  either; 
that  allows  me  no  pity  for  myself.  Kill  me!  You 
have  the  right!  I  am  ready  to  die!  No,  I  shan't 
try  to  save  myself  by  further  lies!  I  have  no  more 
[71] 


PATRIE 

lies,  no  more  hypocrisy,  thank  God !  Now  you  know 
everything !  Kill  me,  strike  me,  and  let  us  make  an 
end  of  it! 

Rys,  [confused].     You  say  that  to  me!     You 

Dolores.  Monsieur,  you  don't  know  what  I  feel ! 
I  swear  there  is  a  time  when  death  itself  seems  a 
deliverance !  At  least  I  shan't  be  forced  to  mask  my 
troubles  under  an  everlasting  smile,  and  sympathize 
with  your  enthusiasm,  which  I  detest — to  smile  that 
hideous  smile  of  love,  when  I  feel  only  hatred ! 

Rys.     Hatred ! 

Dolores.  How  sweet  it  is  to  be  able  to  tell  you 
that! 

[He  totters  into  one  of  the  chairs  to  the  right.] 

Rys.  Do  you  hate  me.-*  What  an  unworthy,  un- 
grateful coward  you  are!  Then  when  I  spoke  to  you, 
an  orphan  without  a  sou,  when  I  offered  you  my  love, 
and  said:  "Here  is  my  fortune,  my  position,  my 
name — take  them,  they  are  all  yours,"  I  was  to  blame 
that  day — in  the  darkest  street  of  the  poorest 
quarter  of  this  city,  when  I  took  you  from  your  mis- 
erable room,  your  hearth  without  a  fire,  your  table 
without  bread,  from  that  l>ed  where  your  mother 
agonized  in  the  midst  of  poverty!  And  since 
then — have  you  found  me  a  suspicious  husband, 
[72] 


PATRIE 

or  jealous,  or  tyrannical?  Have  I  deserved  your 
hatred? 

Dolores.     Ah,  Monsieur! 

Rys.  My  God!  Do  your  duty  as  an  upright 
husband,  have  only  one  thought:  your  wife's  hap- 
piness !  In  exchange  for  satisfying  every  whim,  every 
wish  of  this  wife,  I  ask  only  a  little  affection!  Then 
come  home — and  this  greets  you !  A  crime  so  brazen, 
so  open,  so  shameless,  staring  you  in  the  face,  and 
you  say :  "  Well,  yes — that's  the  way  it  is !    And  then 

?"     I  presume  you  will  now  prove  with  a  word 

that  /  am  to  blame? 

Dolores.     Oh,  God!     Yes,  you  are  to  blame! 

Rys.     Ha! 

Dolores.     You ! 

Rys.     I? 

Dolores.  You!  You  have  been  too  good  to 
me.  Monsieur.  I  realize  that — I  confess  it.  For 
ten  years  I  have  been  thankful  to  you.  God  knows 
I  came  to  you  an  honest  girl,  with  every  intention  of 
remaining  so!  Have  you  helped  me?  Never!  You 
killed  my  gratitude  by  boring  me;  my  tenderness  you 
repaid  with  indifference! 

Rys.     But  my  love! 

Dolores  [rising  and  going  to  the  left].     Your  love! 


PATRIE 

You  talk  of  your  love!  I  know  who  your  first  love 
is!  I  know  my  rival:  your  beloved  Flanders! 
Your  Fatherland,  your  Patrie,  as  you  call  it!  She 
is  your  real  wife — your  mistress!  She  is  your  only 
love,  and  I — ha! 

Rys.     Now  you  insult  the  only  faith  I  have  left! 

Dolores.  Really,  Monsieur,  the  life  I  have  led 
— you  with  your  insane  passion  for  that  something 
that  you  call  "Liberty!"  What  is  my  life,  with  you 
going  ofiF  eternally  on  these  suspicious  journeys,  your 
comings  and  goings  at  night?  Then  you  sit  so  silent 
at  meals,  and  look  at  nothing,  or  something  mysteri- 
ous that  lies  beyond  me!  And  yet  I  am  there  all 
the  time,  and  I  say  to  myself:  "He  is  thinking  of 
her!"  Ah,  Monsieur,  you  have  not  counted  the 
days  I  have  suffered  nor  the  nights  when  I  cried 
myself  to  sleep!  You  never  even  suspected  my 
frightful  loneliness,  my  heart  that  was  burning  with 
tenderness!  To  that  heart  crying  out  the  only  an- 
swer that  came  was  "  Patriotism ! "  What  difference 
does  it  make  to  me  whether  or  not  the  Netherlands 
are  free?  I  am  a  woman,  and  my  Patrie  is  love! 
If  you  had  paid  one  quarter  the  attention  to  it  that 
you  have  to  your  Patrie,  you  and  I  would  not  be  in 
this  situation! 

[74  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  I  am  not  trying  to  make  you  see  that  both 
are  the  same. 

Dolores.  I  admit,  you  couldn't  make  me  un- 
derstand that! 

Rys.  You  are  a  true  daughter  of  that  wretched 
race  that  is  crushing  us!  Oh,  thrice-cursed  Spain, 
selfish,  cruel,  here  is  your  blood! 

Dolores.  You  are  right,  our  races  cannot  be 
mixed;  we  must  rend  one  another  to  pieces!  You 
had  no  business  marrying  me !  I  should  never  have 
thought  of  it,  I,  a  Spaniard  and  a  Catholic!  I  am 
})roud  of  that!  A  Flemish  husband — and  a  rebel! 
An  apostate,  a  coward,  and  a  perjurer! 

Rys.     What  do  you  know  of  that.'* 

Dolores.  It  makes  no  difference  now!  Let's 
make  an  end  to  this!  [She  s^its  on  the  small  chair  be- 
fore the  table.]  You  are  the  master  and  I  am  your 
slave !     Kill  me !     I  have  told  you  to,  and  I  am  ready. 

Rys.  It  seems  to  agree  with  you  Spaniards,  this 
spilling  the  blood  of  women!  But  that  will  not  be 
my  method  of  punishment. 

DoLORiis.  Then,  Monsieur,  what  have  you  de- 
cided to  do  willi  mc? 

Rys.     I  shall  tell  you  that  when  I  know  the  name 
of  your  1()V(M',  which  you  are  to  tell  me! 
[75  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores  [ironically].  Ali,  if  you  hope  to  learn 
that 

Rys.     Who  is  he? 

Dolores.     You  will  never  know. 

Rys.     Who  is  the  man?     You  will  tell  me? 

Dolores.     No! 

Rys.  [taking  her  violently  by  the  wrist,  and  bringing 
Jier  to  a  standing  position].     Tell  me ! 

Dolores  [crying  from  the  pain,  as  she  disengages 
herself  and  goes  toward  the  right].  I  see  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  be  Spanish  in  order  to  know  how  to  torture 
a  woman ! 

Rys.  [as  he  looses  her  hand].  True!  [Controlling 
himself.]  It  was  unworthy !  Well,  I  don't  need  you. 
I  have  a  way  of  knowing :  by  the  wound ! 

Dolores  [in  an  undertone,  frightened].     The  hand! 

Rys.  The  hand!  Yes,  you  have  said  it:  the 
hand! 

'DoL.ORES  [terrified].  Oh,  he  knows!  He  will  find 
out  who — he  will  kill  him! 

Rys.  Willi?  Yes,  I  will!  I  swear  to  you  I  will 
kill  him! 

Dolores  [aside].  Kill  me,  yes!  But  him — I 
know  a  way  to  prevent  that! 

[A  distant  clock  strikes  nine.] 
[76  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  [trembliny].  The  hour  is  striking!  [He  goes 
up  to  the  window.] 

Dolores  [to  herself,  as  she  looks  at  Rysoor].  It  is 
the  hour  for  his  church  service — he  is  going. 

Rys.  [to  himself,  as  he  takes  his  sivord].  Duty  first, 
then  revenge!  [He  goes  to  the  door  at  the  left  and, 
a*  he  is  about  to  leave:]  To-morrow,  Madame,  to- 
morrow! when  your  love  will  be  dead! 

[He  goes  out. 

Dolores  [alone].  Dead!  ]My  Karloo!  Yes,  if 
I  allow  you  the  time  to  kill  him!  [She  goes  up- 
stage quickly,  and  takes  her  mantle,  lehich  lies  on  the 
chair.] 

Scene  II:  A  trench  not  far  from  tJie  Porte  de  Lou- 
vain.  To  the  right,  at  the  hack,  seen  from  an  oblique 
angle,  is  the  Forte  de  Louvain  and  the  profile  of  the 
rampart,  above  which  are  the  steeples  and  Iwuses  of 
the  higher  part  of  the  city.  Stretching  from  the  back 
of  the  stage,  left,  to  the  front,  is  the  counterscarp  of 
the  trench,  ichich  is  very  deep.  The  trench  is  "  practi- 
cable'' and  entirely  on  the  stage,  the  right  side  extend- 
ing between  the  rampart  and  the  counterscarp,  ichich 
runs  crosswise.  To  the  left  is  a  patrol  path,  easily 
visible  to  the  audience.     It  leads  from  the  top  of  the 


PATRIE 

counterscarp  doivn  into  the  trench.  Down-stage,  on 
the  same  side,  is  a  ruined  windmill,  among  shrubs  of 
various  sorts.  To  iJie  right  rises  a  tower,  the  top  of 
which  is  invisible.  At  the  back  a  country  landscape 
can  be  seen,  unth  unndmills  covered  with  snow  and 
glistening  in  the  moonlight.  To  the  right,  in  front 
of  the  counterscarp,  a  large  hole  has  been  dug  through 
the  ice  in  the  trench. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  the  First  and  Second  Officers 
of  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  a  soldier  are  seen  coming 
cautiously  down  the  path  on  the  left,  crouching  for 
fear  of  being  seen  from  the  rampart.  TJie  soldier  fol- 
lows the  officers. 

Second  Officer  [who  walks  behind  the  First].  Ge- 
rard, do  you  see  anything? 

YiR&T  Officer  [going  to  the  right].  Nothing!  The 
water  in  the  trench  is  frozen  soHd,  but  I  see  no  one. 

Second  Officer  [pointing  to  a  sentinel  unseen  by 
the  audience,  as  he  is  supposed  to  be  standing  behind 
the  tower.]     Look  out  for  that  sentinel! 

First  Officer.  And  you  look  out  for  that  big 
hole  in  the  ice. 

Second  Officer.  This  bright  moonlight  is  bad 
for  us. 

[78  1 


PATRIE 

First  Officer.  Be  patient,  it's  beginning  to 
cloud  over.  [To  the  soldier.]  Keep  careful  watch  at 
the  counterscarp! 

[The  soldier  begins  to  climb  the  path.     A  bell  in 
the  city  ritigs.] 
Second  Officer.     Quarter  to  ten. 
First  Officer.     It's  time — and  no  one  here! 
Second  Officer.     There  is  something  mysterious 
about  this!     Sh!  Don't  move!     Some  one's  coming! 
Here  they  are ! 

First  Officer.  Probably.  But  stand  aside, 
comrade!     [To  the  soldier.]     Run  to  the  Prince! 

[Tlwy  crouch  behind  the  bushes  to  the  left.     Ry- 

sooR  appears  on  the  right.     With  Rysoor 

are  Galena,  Jonas,  Bakkerzeel,  and  Cor- 

nelis.     Rysoor  leads  the  party.     He  comes 

down  to  the  middle  of  tlie  stage,  beckoning  to 

the  rest  to  follow  him.     They  do  so  and  come 

dovm  the  path.] 

Rys.  [going  unaccompanied  toward  the  left  and  looJc- 

ing  at  the  snoiv  in  the  trench].     Here  are  footsteps  in 

the  snow!     They  are  here,  Galena! 

First  Officer  [to  the  other].     They  are  the  ones! 
Rys.  [seeing  the  officers,  who  come  forth  from  their 
place  of  hiding].     Who  goes  there? 
[79  1 


PATRIE 

Second  Officer.    Orange! 

Rysoor.     Brabant!     God  be  with  you,  comrades! 
[He  and  his  companions  salute  the  officers.] 

First  and  Second  Officers  [saliding  as  they  ad- 
vance].    And  with  you.  Messieurs! 

Rys.     Is  the  Prince  there? 

First  Officer.     Here  he  is! 

[The  Prince  of  Orange,  followed  by  two  sol- 
diers, appears  on  the  path  at  the  left.] 

Rys.  Yes,  it's  he!  Galena,  keep  strict  watch 
over  there — we  may  be  surprised ! 

The  Prince.  Rysoor,  my  friend,  I  was  begimiing 
to  think  that  something  had  happened  to  you. 

Rys.  Thank  God,  no!  Monseigneur,  here  are 
the  leaders  of  our  enterprise — all  except  one — but  he 
is  helping  us  to  his  utmost. 

The  Prince.  Messieurs,  I  grasp  all  your  loyal 
hands  in  that  of  the  Count!  God  protect  our 
cause ! 

The  Conspirators  [saluting].  And  your  Excel- 
lency ! 

The  Prince.  And  now  to  work !  We  have  little 
time!     But  first — those  sentinels  up  there.'' 

Rys.     Safe  and  tried!     Bound  to  our  cause! 

The  Prince.     There's  nothing  to  fear,  then? 
I  80  1 


PATH  IE 

Rys.     Nothing,  Monseigneur ! 

The  Prince.     What  is  this  hole? 

Rys.  It  has  been  cut  in  the  ice  for  victims:  the 
cemeteries  are  full  to  overflowing ! 

The  Prince.  Poor  city!  Are  we  not  halfway 
between  the  Porte  de  Cologne  and  the  Porte  de  Lou- 
vain? 

CoRNELis.  Yes,  Monseigneur:  there  is  the  Porte 
de  Louvain,  over  there ! 

The  Prince.     Good ! 

Bakkerzeel.  How  many  men  has  your  Excel- 
lency hidden  in  the  wood  of  La  Cambre? 

The  Prince.  Three  thousand  picked  cavalry, 
each  one  with  a  foot-soldier  whom  he  can  carry  on 
the  croup  with  him.  In  all,  six  thousand  of  the  best 
men. 

Rys.  The  city  can  muster  twelve  thousand.  We 
are  numerous! 

The  Prince.  Yes,  but  we  must  effect  an  entrance 
first! 

Rys.  We  will,  Monseigneur.  All  the  guards  at 
the  Porte  de  Louvain  are  our  men,  like  these  sentinels 
on  the  rampart. 

The  Prince  [joyfully].  Is  that  your  work,  Ry- 
soor? 

181  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  No,  not  mine,  but  Bakkerzeel's  and  Ga- 
lena's.    They  did  that  when  I  was  away! 

The  Prince.  Thanks  be  to  God!  Messieurs,  a 
master-stroke ! 

Rys.  They  are  German  lancers,  Lutherans  and 
Calvinists,  threatened  as  such  by  the  Duke  of  Alba. 
Their  fear  has  brought  them  over  to  our  side. 

The  Prince.     Good !     So  they  will  open  the  gate.'^ 

CoRNELis.     At  a  signal  from  the  belfry. 

The  Prince.     Which  will  be  given  by ? 

Jonas.     By  me,  Monseigneur! 

The  Prince.     Jonas? 

Jonas.     Does  Monseigneur  recognize  me.^ 

The  Prince.     Why,  our  dear  old  bellringer! 

Rys.  At  midnight  Jonas  will  ring  the  big  bell  as 
hard  as  he  can,  the  portcullis  drops,  and  your  six 
thousand  men  are  inside!  All  our  friends  rush  into 
the  streets,  crying:  "To  arms!"  Galena  runs  to 
the  Palace,  Bakkerzeel  occupies  the  Jacobins',  I  the 
Town  Hall.  Ten  thousand  men  coming  forth  from 
the  shadows  throw  themselves  on  the  Spaniards. 
The  Duke  of  Alba  is  cut  to  pieces  before  he  has  time 
to  put  on  his  spurs ! 

The  Prince.  Good!  But  we  must  prepare  for 
every  emergency:  the  most  unexpected  turn  of  af- 
[82  1 


PATRIE 

fairs  has  often  destroyed  the  best-laid  plans!     In  an 
hour's  time  we  may  be  still  unprepared. 

Rys.  In  that  case,  Monseigneur,  Jonas  instead 
of  giving  the  signal  to  come  forth  will  give  one  mean- 
ing, "Save  yourselves!" 

The  Prince.     Another  signal? 

Rys.     Yes.     If  all  goes  well,  then  the  big  bell 

Jonas.     Roland ! 

Rys.  Roland!  Yes,  Roland  will  then  ring  as 
loud  as  possible,  as  on  the  great  festival  days. 

The  Prince.     And  in  case  of  disaster? 

Rys.  The  death-knell.  In  this  city  of  death  that 
is  always  in  place! 

The  Prince.  So  then:  the  call  to  arms,  and  the 
call  for  retreat !     Good ! 

[The  hour  strikes  in  tlie  distance,  and  is  repeated 
by  many  other  bells.] 

Rys.  Sainte-Gudule  is  striking  ten.  If  your 
men  start  at  eleven,  they  will  be  able  to  advance 
without  being  heard  to  within  a  thousand  steps  of 
the  ramparts,  and  be  ready  for  the  signal. 

The  Prince.  One  thing  more:  how  shall  we  be 
able  to  recognize  our  allies  in  the  city  streets? 

Rys.   [sliowing  a  white  neck-cloth  attached  to  the 
hilt  of  his  sword].     This  white  neck-cloth,  Monsei- 
[83  1 


PATRIE 

giieur,  which  is  attached  eitlier  to  the  sword  or  on 
the  hat. 

The  Prince.  Everytliing  seems  wisely  planned, 
Rysoor.  Messieurs,  I  am  not  a  man  of  many  words : 
I  shall  not  speak  of  the  lamentable  condition  of  our 
Patrie.  You  know  it,  alas!  only  too  well.  We  are 
engaged  in  a  desperate  enterprise;  one  false  step  may 
spoil  everything.  In  the  name  of  all  that  you  hold 
sacred,  my  friends,  do  not  for  an  instant  forget  your- 
selves! No  frivolity — not  a  useless  word — espe- 
cially to  the  women!  Return  to  your  homes,  put  out 
the  lights,  hide  your  weapons.  Let  the  city  sleep 
more  soundly  to-night  than  usual.  Now,  let  us  sepa- 
rate— until  later !  May  God  give  us  only  a  little  help 
and — you  and  I  will  take  care  of  the  rest! 

Rys.     Until  later,  Monseigneur! 

Galena  [pointing  to  the  left].     Silence!     A  patrol! 

Rys.     Which  direction? 

Galena.     On  the  counterscarp! 

Rys.  [uneasily].     How  does  it  happen  to  be  there? 
[Jonas  climbs  up  the  embankment.] 

Bakkerzeel.  That's  the  guard  from  the  Porte 
de  Cologne.     It  comes  this  far. 

The   Prince.     Bend   down.    Messieurs!     Not   a 
word!     [To  Jonas.]     Is  it  coming? 
[84  1 


PATlllE 

Jonas  [lying  down  on  the  rampart].  Yes,  Mousei- 
gneur. 

CoRNELis  [who  is  looking  toward  the  right,  quickly]. 
There's  another,  coming  toward  us,  following  the 
walls ! 

Galena.     Caught  between  two  fires! 
Rys  [pointing  to  the  left].     Your  swords,  Messieurs! 
Let  us  charge  on  this  side. 

[He  draws  his  sword,  while  the  other  conspira- 
tors do  likewise,  and  stand  ready  to  fall  wpon 
the  patrol.] 
The    Prince    [quickly].     This    is    madness!     We 
shall  spoil  everything! 

Rys.  But  we  are  trapped  in  this  trench ! 
The  Prince.  Keep  cool,  Rysoor,  keep  cool!  [To 
the  First  Officer.]  Gerard!  Quick,  my  Icelanders, 
quick!  Behind  these  walls,  Messieurs!  Then  let 
the  sea-dogs  loose.  They  are  used  to  this  sort  of 
thing! 

[Together  with  the  officers,  he  hides  behirid  the 
mill,  while  Rysoor  and  the  conspirators  seek 
the  shadow  of  the  town,  on  the  right.  The  sea- 
dogs,  coining  out  of  the  underbrush  at  the  left, 
come  on  to  the  stage,  then  conceal  themselves 
by  the  side  of  the  rampart.  At  the  top  of  the 
[85  I 


PATRIE 

path  a  patrol  of  six  men  is  seen;  one  of  them 
is  an  officer.  The  Spaniards  descend  the  path 
to  the  stage  and  turn  toivard  tlie  trench  when 
they  find  their  way  barred.  At  a  signal, 
which  sounds  like  the  cry  of  an  owl,  all  the  sea- 
dogs  attach  the  patrol  simultaneously:  tivo 
sea-dogs  to  each  Spaniard.  One  throws  a 
lasso  over  the  Spaniard's  neck,  while  the  other 
disarms  him  instantaneously .  The  surprised 
soldiers,  finding  themselves  gagged,  struggle. 
There  is  a  fierce  conflict,  during  which  choked 
cries  of  rage  are  heard.  The  conspirators  come 
from  their  hiding-places  to  help  the  Icelanders, 
2vho,  having  strangled  all  the  soldiers,  throio 
their  bodies  into  the  open  pit.  Some  of  the 
conspirators  scale  the  counterscarp,  thus  pre- 
cipitating a  great  mass  of  sriow  down  into 
the  trench;  others  stamp  on  the  s7iow  over  the 
pit,  while  two  soldiers  gather  up  the  weapons 
that  have  fallen  during  the  struggle.] 

Rys.     That  is  over  with! 

[The  sea-dogs  run  out.     There  is  no  trace  of  the 
buried  patrol.] 

The  Prince  [umlklng  up  the  path].     Until  mid- 
night, Messieurs!     And — courage! 
[86] 


PATRIE 

Rys.     Quick,  Monseigneur !    Here  comes  the  other 
patrol ! 

[The  Prince  and  his  officers  quickly  disappear 
along  the  path.  Rysoor  and  his  compan- 
ions hide  behind  the  wall.  The  patrol  ap- 
pears toward  the  right,  crosses  the  stage,  where 
it  is  plainly  seen  in  the  bright  moonlight, 
marching  over  the  very  spot  where  their  dead 
comrades  lie  buried,  and  then  goes  up  the 
other  side.  The  moment  it  reaches  the  top  of 
the  counterscarp  Rysoor  and  his  friends 
come  cautiously  from  their  places,  crouching 
and  looking  after  the  disappearing  soldiers 
as  the  bells  of  the  city  are  heard  ringing.] 
Jonas  [standing  by  the  pit].  My  bell  is  not  heard! 
[They  all  disappear  behind  the  tower. 

Curtain. 


87 


ACT  III 


ACT  III 

Scene  I:  The  Duke  of  Alba's  'private  room  in  the 
palace  of  the  government.  The  room  has  a  high, 
vaulted  ceiling;  the  general  effect  is  rich  but  sombre. 
Down-stage  to  the  right  is  a  door  leading  to  the 
interior  apartments;  before  it  is  a  large  armchair. 
Halfway  upstage  on  the  same  side  is  a  huge  Flemish 
fireplace,  above  which  hangs  a  portrait  of  King  Philip 
II.  The  room  narrows  toward  the  back  of  the  stage. 
There  are  doors  to  the  right,  and  a  window  at  the  back 
opening  upon  a  view  of  the  city.  Half  way  up-stage  to 
the  left  is  an  entrance.  There  are  two  tables  covered 
with  velvet  tapestries  bearing  the  arms  of  the  House  of 
Austria:  one  at  the  left,  down-stage,  the  other  facing 
obliquely,  at  the  right,  opposite  the  fireplace.  The 
Duke  of  Alba,  seated  by  the  fireplace  in  a  large  arm- 
chair, his  features  outlined  by  the  light  of  the  fire, 
is  buried  in  thought,  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table, 
as  he  looks  into  the  burning  embers.  Vargas  and 
Delrio,  sitting  at  the  table  on  the  left,  are  busied 
[911 


vxnuE 

iiyith  their  corren-pondence.  At  the  back  of  the  stage 
is  MaItre  Charles,  the  city  executioner.  La 
Tremoille  is  sitting  at  a  smalt  table  reading  by  the 
light  of  a  double-bra  nched  candelabrum.  The  rooiri  is 
lighted  with  candelabra  decorated  with  the  Austrian 
arms,  and  bearing  large  candles  of  yellow  wax.  To 
the  left  of  the  Duke's  table  is  a  seat  without  a  back. 

La  Tr.  [rising,  book  in  hand,  and  coming  down- 
stage to  the  left].  Charming  room!  [To  Vargas,  in 
an  undertone.]     Messieurs! 

\  ARGAS.     Monsieur  le  Marquis? 

La  Tr.  Is  Monsieur  le  Due  always  in  this  pecu- 
liar humor? 

Delrio  [aside  to  La  Tremoille]  .  No,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,  he  is  troubled  about  Doiia  Rafaele's  health. 

Vargas  [also  under  his  breath].  Dona  Rafaele  left 
the  table  this  evening  after  a  frightful  coughing  fit, 
and  her  physician,  Maitre  Alberti,  has  just  had  what 
I  imagine  was  a  serious  conference  with  the  Duke. 

La  Tr.     Poor  child! 

Delrio.     It  will  doubtless  be  necessary  to  send 

the  Senora  to  Spain,  for  Maitre  Alberti  declares  that 

the  climate  of  Flanders  is  killing  her.     She  needs,  he 

says,  the  warm  and  perfumed  air  of  Andalusia;    she 

192  1 


PATRIE 

cannot  hope  to  last  in  this  damp  chniate  until  even 
early  April. 

Vargas.  This  separation  will  be  a  terrible  blow 
to  Monsieur  le  Due.  He  loves  his  daughter  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world! 

Delrio.  And  theji  a  city  in  war  time  is  no  place 
for  a  young  girl. 

[.1  (/uard  enters,  and  (jocs  tiptoe  to  Delrio  a7id 
Vargas,  speaklnij  to  them,  as  La  Tremoille 
resumes  his  place  and  continues  reading.] 
Delrio  [rises  quietly,  crosses  the  stage,  and  says  to 
the  Duke  in  an  undertone].     Monseigneur,  the  mes- 
senger from  Spain  has  arrived. 

Alba .    Ali,  news  from  the  King !    Let  him  come  in ! 

[Tlie  messenger  quietly  enters,  makes  a  low  how, 

then  draws  Jorth  the  dispatches  from  a  small 

leather  sack;   laying  them   on  a  silver  tray 

which  is  on  the  table.] 

You  have  been  quick,  Perez ! 

Messenger.  Only  fifteen  days,  Monseigneur, 
and  in  this  snow!  And  I  have  had  to  look  out  for 
these  rebel  bands  which  overrun  the  country. 

Alba.  Rest  yourself — you  must  return  to-morrow. 
[The  messenger  goes  out  with  the  guard.     Alba 
opens  the  packet  of  dispatches.] 
[93  1 


PATRIE 

A   letter   for  you,  Vargas,   in  His  Majesty's  own 
hand! 

Vargas  [going  to  the  Duke  and  taking  the  letter  very 
respectfully].     I  am  truly  honored  by  the  King! 
Alba.     And  one  for  you,  too,  Delrio. 
Delrio  [folloiving  Vargas's  example,  and  kissing 
the  seal  obsequiously].     God  save  the  King! 

[Vargas  goes  to  tlie  table,  takes  a  pair  of  scissors, 
with  ivhich  lie  severs  the  silk  cord  holding  the 
seal,  then  reads  the  letter  down-stage,  while 
Delrio  goes  to  the  s^mall  table  up-stag e,  and 
opens  his  letter  in  the  same  manner  as  Var- 
gas.] 
Vargas  [reading  in  an  undertone].     "Seiior  Var- 
gas:   Your  reports  I  treasure  highly.     Continue  to 
keep  me  secretly  informed  of  all  you  know  about 
Monsieur  le  Due.     Burn  this  letter  carefully.    God  be 
with  you,  Philip.      I  mistrust  Delrio.      Keep  strict 

watch  over  him "  [He  goes  toward  the  left,  reading 

all  the  while,  then  returns,  passing  the  table.] 

Delrio  [coming  down  to  the  centre  of  the  stage,  as  he 
reads  his  letter].  "Senor  Delrio:  Many  thanks  for 
your  excellent  information.  Continue  to  send  me 
these  secret  reports  as  to  what  you  learn  of  Mon- 
sieur le  Due.  Burn  this  letter!  God  be  with  you, 
[94  1 


PATRIE 

Philip.  I  have  small  confidence  in  Vargas:  never 
allow  him  out  of  your  sight ! ' '  [He  returns  to  his  place 
in  the  same  manner  as  Vargas.] 

Vargas  [bovnng  to  Delrio  before  seating  himself]. 
My  compliments! 

Delrio  [boiving  to  Vargas].     And  mine  to  you! 

Alba.  Messieurs,  here  Ls  a  post-scriptum  from 
the  King  for  you:  "My  son  Don  Carlos  died  sud- 
denly on  Christmas  Eve ! " 

V.\RGAS  and  Delrio.     The  Infante? 

Alba  [continuing].  "I  had  forgotten  to  tell  you 
before " 

La  Tr.  [who  is  still  reading,  aside].  Three  months 
ago!     A  model  father! 

Alba  [continuing].  "This  wretched  son  of  mine  has 
been  the  occasion  of  so  much  trouble  that  I  am  not 
sure  whether  we  ought  to  mourn  his  death  or  con- 
gratulate ourselves!"  Messieurs,  we  shall  partici- 
pate in  HLs  Majesty's  grief  by  adopting  mourning. 

Delrio.     Of  course,  Monseigneur! 
[He  and  Vargas  seat  themselves.] 

La  Tr.  [to  himself].     With  pleasure ! 

Alba.  Ah,  you  are  still  here,  jMonsieur  le  Mar- 
cjuis.^ 

La  Tr.     Your  Excellency  having  afforded  me  the 
f  9.>  ] 


PATRIE 

hospitality  of  your  palace  for  a  prison,  while  I  await 
your  pleasure  to  release  me.  I  distract  myself  by 
reading  of  the  campaigns  of  the  Emperor  Charles  the 
Fifth. 

Alba  [sarcastically].  A  great  king,  Monsieur  Ic 
Marquis.     You  French  know  something  of  that. 

La  Tr.  He  was  indeed  a  great  king,  Monsieur  le 
Due.  I  once  had  the  honor  of  dining  with  His 
Majesty  at  the  convent  of  Saint-Just,  and  I  still  mar- 
vel at  the  vast  amount  of  victuals  His  Majesty  was 
able  to  consume.      Great  God!  what  an  appetite! 

Alba.     Imperative! 

La  Tk.     Imperial! 

Alba.     Great  monarchs  are  great  in  all  ways! 

La  Tr.  Ah,  King  Philij)  has  not  the  capacity  of 
liis  worthy  father. 

Alba  [biting  his  lip].  We  have  fixed  your  ransom. 
Monsieur  le  Marquis,  at 

La  Tr.  A  hundred  thousand  crowns.  Monsieur 
leDuc! 

Alba.  A  trifle!  The  French  are  so  clever,  they 
should  be  taxed  double. 

La  Tr.   [imrujfled].      Then,   Monsieur  le  Due,   I 
should  pay  three  himdred  thousand  crowns,  and  you 
Spaniards  would  be  none  the  richer! 
[96] 


PATRIE 

Alba  [violently].     Maitre  Charles! 

[Every  one's  attention  is  riveted  on  the  Duke. 
The  executiojicr  steps  forward.  Delrio 
and  Vargas  raise  their  heads  and  La  Tre- 
Mo'iLLE  quietly  scans  tlie  Duke,  who  is  scarcely 
able  to  overcome  his  wrath.] 
Alba  [to  the  executioner].  What  were  you  telling 
me  just  now? 

Charles.     I  took  the  liberty  to  remark  that  my 
assistants  are  a^sking  for  double  pay,  because  of  the 
fearful  jobs  they  have  to  perform. 
Alba.     Very  well!     And  then? 
Charles.     Then  we're  out  of  ropes! 
Alba.     Vargas,  a^k  Rincon  to  have  twenty  of  his 
men  spend  the  night  weaving  hemp.     Then? 

Charles.     Then,    ^Monsieur   le    Due,    when   that 
job's  over — well,  we  don't  know  where  to  bury  them 

— all  those 

Alba.     I  gave  an  order  that  holes  were  to  be  cut 
in  the  ice  at  each  of  the  city  gates. 

Vargas.     That  has  been  done,  Mon.seigneur,  at 
the  Porte  d'Anderleke  and  the  Porte  de  Louvain. 
Alba.     Do  you  hear,  IVIaitre  Charles? 
Charles.     Yes,  Monseigneur. 
Alba.     Anything  else? 

107  1 


PATRIE 

Charles.     That's  all. 
[Alba  strikes  a  bell.] 
That  is,  unless  Monseigneur  has  some  commission 
for  me  to-night. 

Alba.  I  may  have — wait!  [He  rises.  A  valet 
appears  at  ihe  right.]  Domingo,  see  whether  the 
Dona  Rafaele  is  resting. 

[Domingo  goes  out  through  the  same  door  by 
which  he  entered.] 
Well,  how  is  the  city  this  evening,  Delrio? 

[Delrio  and  Vargas,  seeing  the  Duke  standing, 
rise,  but  he  motions  them  to  be  seated.] 
Delrio.     Splendid,  Monseigneur — capital  Mardi- 
gras:  life,  gaiety,  yet  all  in  good  order — everything  is 
satisfactory. 

Alba  [coming  down-stage,  in  front  of  the  table].  I 
went  out  for  a  moment  after  the  Angelus,  and  the 
lower  part  of  the  city  seemed  very  quiet. 

Delrio.  Monseigneur  knows  that  the  Flemish 
lack  gaiety.  There  is  not  that  Spanish  spontaneity, 
so  lively!  No,  the  Fleming  takes  his  pleasure  in- 
ternally.    There  is  nothing  on  the  surface. 

Alba.  I  did  not  see  a  single  mask  during  my 
walk.     [He  goes  to  the  window  at  the  back.] 

La  Tr.     Ah,  these  gentlemen!    I  saw  one  not  long 
[98  1 


PATRIE 

ago,  arm  in  arm  with  tlic  bellringer.     The  rascal! 
He  was  enjoying  himself! 

Alba  [opening  the  window].  See  how  the  city 
sleeps !  There's  not  a  light — in  the  whole  Place  there's 
not  a  cry ! 

Vargas.     That  shows  how  tranquil  the  city  is! 

Alba.     Too  much  so!     Still  waters !     How  is 

it  that  that  tavern  is  not  lighted  up  as  usual? 

Delrio.  All,  the  tavern,  Monseigneur :  we  have 
reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  innkeepers. 

Vargas.     And  the  bakers. 

Delrio.     And  the  butchers,  too. 

Alba.     What  do  you  mean? 

Vargas.  We  should  tell  your  Excellency  that  only 
this  morning  eighteen  innkeepers,  bakers,  and  butch- 
ers, among  the  most  influential  in  the  city,  refused  to 
open  their  shops  and  make  their  display. 

Alba.     Eighteen? 

Vargas.     No  less! 

Alba.     And  you  did  not  force  them? 

Delrio.  Your  pardon,  Monseigneur!  We  gave 
them  until  noon  to  reconsider;  as  they  still  remained 
obdurate,  we  shut  them  up  in  the  Jacobins'! 

La  Tr.  [to  himself].  That  will  scarcely  improve 
business ! 

[99] 


PATRIE 

Alba  [comituj  downstage].  Indeed!  rebellion 
among  the  merchants! 

Delrio.  Ah,  Monseigneur,  it  is  all  because  of 
this  latest  tax. 

Vargas.  Since  your  Excellency  has  imposed  a 
tax  of  10  per  cent,  on  all  provisions,  merchandise, 
and  personal  jjroperty — — 

Delrio.     What,  opposition  from  the  tradespeople ! 

Vargas.     They  are  fearfully  wrought  up! 

Alba.     Really! 

Delrio.  This  nation  of  shopkeepers  is  so  sensi- 
tive about  material  advantages! 

Alba.  Well,  by  Saint-Jacques,  its  neck  will  have 
a  chance  to  feel  sensitive!  Mattre  Charles,  have 
eighteen  new  ropes  prepared.  At  sunrise  to-morrow 
I  want  to  see  these  eighteen  rascals  dangling  above 
their  own  doorsteps.  Understand?  From  their  own 
sign-posts!  You  may  go!  Now  you  have  something 
to  busy  you  with  to-night. 

La  Tr.  [to  himself].     That  won't  settle  matters! 

Alba  [to  Domingo,  uiho  reappears].     Well? 

Domingo.  Dona  Rafaele  thanks  your  Excel- 
lency, and  begs  to  wish  you  good-night  before  she 
retires. 

Alba.  Dear  child!  Good!  I  shall  go  to  her  at 
f  100  1 


PATIIIE 

once!     The  news  from  Holland,  ^Messieurs,  in  three 
words? 

Delrio  [holdiiuj  .suiitc  Icitcr.s].  Wholly  fa\"orahle, 
Monscigneur!  Amslerdam  is  quiet — the  whole  of 
the  low  country  inundated — but  that  makes  no  dif- 
ference to  us. 

Alba.     And  the  Prince  of  Orange? 

Delrio.  According  to  the  spies'  reports,  from 
the  fifteenth  of  the  present  month,  the  Prince  was  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Leyden. 

Alba.  That  is  very  well.  [lie  walka  toward  the 
right.] 

Vargas  [lookimj  through  his  notes].     No.     1  beg 

your  pardon — Mons 

[The  Duke  stops  short.] 

Delrio  [sJtowing  him  the  report].  No — Leyden. 
[.ilso  rising.]     Here  is  mine. 

Alba  [angrily].  By  Saint-Jacques,  we  have 
treacherous  spies!     Are  they  making  game  of  me? 

Vargas  [showing  a  letter].  Monsieur  le  Comte  de 
Nassau 

Alba    [violrutlij    snatching    the    letter    from    him, 

crumpling  and  throwing  it  across  the  room].     I  care 

nothing  about  the  Comte  de  Nassau !     He  will  make 

no  more  than  a  mouthful!     Good  God!     Messieurs, 

I  101] 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  C.ATjr'^.T^NI. 

SANTA   BARBARA 


PATRIE 

I  give  you  exactly  an  hour  in  which  to  find  the  where- 
abouts of  Orange !     He  is  the  only  one  I  fear ! 

NomcARMES  enters,  left,  during  the  last  part  of 
this  speech. 

NoiR.  Then  let  your  Excellency  rest  assured :  you 
need  have  no  further  fear  of  him ! 

Alba.     How  is  that? 

NoiR.  Recent  and  authentic  reports  have  arrived : 
he  crossed  back  over  the  Rhine  atStrassburg  last  Sun- 
day with  three  hundred  men.  All  his  troops  had 
revolted  because  there  was  no  pay  for  them — they 
have  scattered,  disappeared! 

Alba.     Where  did  you  get  your  information? 

NoiR.  From  the  French  Ambassador,  who  wishes 
your  Excellency  a  good-night. 

Alba.  Splendid,  Vive-dieu!  This  is  news;  it 
puts  new  blood  into  my  veins.  Messieurs,  let  me 
sign  your  papers ! 

[Vargas  pushes  forward  his  chair  upon  which 
the  Duke  sits  to  sign  the  papers  which  are 
given  to  him.] 
Nothing  suspicious  this  evening? 

NoiR.  Absolutely  nothing,  Monseigneur;  the  city 
is  asleep. 

[  102  1 


PATRIE 

Alba  [rising].  Then,  Messieurs,  I  think  we  might 
well  follow  its  example !  Let  us  arrange  these  papers 
first  and  then  retire.  [To  La  Tremoille.]  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis,  your  room  is  next  to  mine,  and 

Enter  Rafaele,  a  nun,  and  a  maid. 

Alba  [going  to  Rafaele  and  taking  her  tenderly  in 
his  arms].     My  dear  child!     ^Yell? 

Rafaele  [wlio  is  supported  by  the  two  women].  Bet- 
ter. 

Alba  [to  the  ivomen].  That  chair!  How  is  the 
fearful  cough? 

Rafaele.  Cough?  [La  Tremoille  precedes  the 
icomen  and  places  the  chair  for  Rafaele.]  Not  so 
bad.     [She  coughs.] 

Alba.  Sit  down!  [He  makes  her  sit  in  the  chair.] 
And  your  pains? 

Rafaele  [smiling  sadly].     The  same  as  ever! 

Alba.  But  Maitre  Alberti  promised  me  to  make 
you  sleep ! 

Rafaele.     Oh,  I  shall! 

Alba.     Noircarmes,  the  window!     The  air  is  icy 
cold.     [He  goes  up  toward  the  window,  ichich  Noir- 
carmes closes.     During  this  time  La  Tremoille  has 
placed  a  cushion  under  Rafaele's  feet.] 
[  103  1 


PATRIE 

Rafaele.     Thank  you,  Monsieur. 

Alba  [coming  down-stage  again]  Thank  you. 
Marquis!  [He  takes  his  daughter's  hand.]  Always 
tliat  same  fever!     And  your  hands  are  burning! 

RiNCON  enters  tiptoe  and  speaks  with  Noircarmes. 

Rafaele.  I  have  just  suffered  such  agonies;  but 
now,  truly,  I  am  better. 

Alba  [kissing  her  hands  affedionatebj].  Dear, 
sweet  child!     Sweet,  tender,  little  one! 

[Noircarmes,  Vargas,  and  Delrio,  to  whom 
RiNCON  has  just  been  speaking,  hesitate,  then 
Noircarmes  decides.] 

Noir.    [timidly].     Monseigneur! 

Alba.  Yes?  What  is  it?  I  shall  not  need  you 
further — you  may  go. 

Noir.  I  beg  your  Excellency's  pardon,  but  there 
is  something  important. 

Alba  [impaticntlij].  Must  there  always  be  some- 
thing? I  seem  never  to  have  the  time  or  the  right 
to  be  a  father!     Well,  what  is  it? 

Noir.     The  captain  of  the  militia 

Alba.     There  is  no  longer  any  militia. 

Noir.     Exactly,  Monseigneur.     This  young  man 
used  to  command  the  (^ivil  Guard;   we  gave  him  an 
f  104  1 


PATRIE 

order  just  now  which  he  cannot  execute  without 
your  Excellency's  permission. 

Alba.  Let  him  come  in — and  now,  for  God's 
sake,  let  us  get  things  finished ! 

RiNCON.     Come  in.  Captain. 

Enter  Karloo. 

Rafakle  [aside].     He? 

Alba  [with  hauteur].     Let  me  tell  you  at  once. 
Monsieur,  it  is  most  daring  of  you  to  appear  in  my 
presence  with  your  sword  hanging  at  your  side! 
Karloo.     Monsieur  le  Due,  I  am  a  captain ! 

[RixcON  stands  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  near  the 
door;    Noircarmes  near  the  Duke's  table; 
La  Tremoille  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  the 
nun  and  the  maid  before  the  door.] 
Alba  [as  before].     You  are  no  longer  one!      The 
Civil  Guard  has  been  abolished.     Your  sword,  Mon- 
sieur! 

[Without  saying  a  icord  Karloo  gives  his  stvord 

to  Noircarmes,  who  hands  it  to  Rincon, 

who  lays  it  on  the  table  to  the  left.] 

Rafaele  [to  the  Duke  as  she  takes  his  hands  in  hers]. 

Father,  I  beg  you,  don't  be  angry.     It  makes  me 

very  ill  to  hear  you. 

[  10.3  ] 


PATRIE 

Alba.  Very  well,  my  child!  [More  softly  to  Kar- 
Loo.]     Monsieur,  what  do  you  wish? 

Karloo.  Monsieur  le  Due,  Monsieur  le  Grand 
Prevot  ordered  me  this  afternoon  to  gather  together 
all  the  weapons  of  my  company  to-night  and  take 
them  to  the  Town  Hall — on  pain  of  death. 

[Rafaele  starts.     She  still  holds  her  father^s 
hand,  trembling.] 

Alba.     Well? 

Karloo.  Well,  Monsieur  le  Due,  I  am  ready  to 
obey  the  moment  I  have  the  means  of  doing  so;  it  is 
quite  impossible  to  transport  eight  hundred  cuirasses, 
muskets,  and  helmets,  on  account  of  the  chains  that 
block  the  way  into  the  Grand-Marche. 

Alba.     Nonsense ! 

Rafaele.     But  that  is  very  reasonable.  Father. 

Alba  [softening].  Hush,  child!  [To  Karloo.] 
And  you  ask 

Karloo.  To  have  the  chains  removed  to-night. 
Monsieur  le  Due,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Town  Hall. 

Alba.     And  if  I  refuse? 

Karloo.  Then  your  Excellency  need  not  ask  for 
the  weapons — only  my  head!     That  is  simpler. 

Rafaele  [to  her  father].     He  is  right,  Father. 

Alba.     Noircarmes,  do  you  see  any  objection? 
[106] 


PATRIE 

NoiR.  None,  whatsoever,  Monseigneur — only  for 
one  night ! 

Alba.     Good,  then!    Now,  leave  me! 
[Karloo  salutes,  and  turns  to  go.] 

Rafaele  [quickly,  in  an  undertone].  Father,  don't 
let  him  go  yet ! 

Alba  [to  Karloo].  Wait!  [To  Rafaele.]  What 
is  it? 

Rafaele.  Please  give  him  back  his  sword. 
There  is  nothing  so  humiliating  for  a  soldier  as  to  be 
weaponless. 

Alba.  Little  silly!  Why,  a  Civil  Guard  would 
not  know  how  to  use  a  sword ! 

Rafaele.     Oh,  yes,  he  would! 

Alba.     How  do  you  know? 

Rafaele.     I  have  seen  them  in  action. 

Alba.     Where? 

Rafaele.  The  day  I  went  to  the  Convent  of 
Groenendaal.  You  remember,  Father?  Where  I 
was  insulted — the  people  threw  stones  at  me ! 

Alba.     Yes,  the  scoundrels! 

Rafaele.  Well,  the  man  who  defended  me  so 
splendidly 

Alba.     Is  this  the  man? 

Rafaele.     Yes. 

[107  1 


PATRIE 

Alba.  Vive-Dieu!  Why  not  say  so  at  once? 
Well!  [Graciously,  to  Karloo.]  Captain,  will  you 
please  come  here?  [Karloo  comes  down-stage.] 
Here  is  a  lady,  I  understand,  who  is  under  obliga- 
tions to  you. 

Karloo.  Monsieur  le  Due,  I  only  did  my  duty 
toward  a  woman;  that  is,  protect  her  against  insult. 

Rafaele.  And  I,  Seigneur  Karloo,  do  my  duty 
by  remembering  what  you  did. 

Alba.  Karloo!  I  seem  to  know  that  name! 
Captain,  were  you  not  at  Gravelines? 

Karloo,  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Due,  and  at  Saint- 
Quentin;  I  was  standard-bearer  of  Monsieur  le 
Comte  d'Egmont. 

Alba,  Indeed!  Well,  Seigneur  Karloo,  a  man 
who  has  made  such  good  use  of  his  sword  as  that 
shall  not  be  deprived  of  it.  You  may  have  your 
weapon ! 

Rafaele  [joyfully  pressing  her  fathers  hand]. 
Splendid ! 

Karloo.  I  beg  your  pardon.  Monsieur  le  Due. 
I  may  have  my  sword,  you  say,  but  in  what  capacity? 

Alba.  As  lieutenant  of  my  guards.  Noircarmes 
will  send  you  your  papers  to-morrow. 

Rafaele  [delighted].     I  am  so  glad! 
f  108  1 


PATRIE 

Alba  [to  Rafaele].     Are  you  happy? 

HAFABhE  [as  before].     Oh,  yes! 

Karloo.  Monsieur  le  Due,  I  cannot  take  the 
sword. 

Alba  [surprised].     I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur? 

Karloo.  I  am  a  Fleming,  and  as  such  I  cannot 
serve  in  the  King's  army. 

Alba.  Yet  you  served  him  under  Monsieur  d'Eg- 
mont! 

Karloo.  Against  the  French,  Monseigneur;  but 
when  it  is  a  question  of  serving  against  my  own 
people — never ! 

Alba.     By  God !   the  audacity ! 

Rafaele  [trying  to  restrain  her  father  during  the 
following] .     Father ! 

Karloo  [taking  his  sword  from  the  table].  Your 
Excellency  has  not  noticed  this  blade :  it  is  a  simple, 
rustic  piece  of  work,  intended  to  guard  over  the 
sleeping  city,  or  the  Patrie  when  it  is  threatened;  pro- 
tect old  men,  women,  children.  Then  it  leaps  forth 
joyfully  from  its  sheath  into  the  sunlight,  ready 
and  loyal  for  its  duty !  But  when  there  is  question  of 
matching  it  with  the  executioner's  blade,  or  using 
it  as  a  signal  for  massacre  in  burning  towns,  I  know 
well,  Monsieur  le  Due,  it  would  turn  its  point  to  my 
[109  1 


PATRIE 


heart!  We  are  far  too  Flemish,  it  and  I!  We  un- 
derstand nothing  of  Spanish  ways!  [He  lays  his 
sword  on  the  table.     All  are  very  surprised.] 

Alba  [jmnping  up  from  his  chair  injury].  Noir- 
carmes ! 

Rafaele  [also  quickly  rising,  then  throwing  herself 
into  his  arms].     Father! 

[Every  one  stands  still.] 

Ax,BA  [restraining  himself,  after  a  pause].  Mon- 
sieur, I  can  at  least  be  grateful  for  a  service  rendered. 
You  may  thank  your  destiny,  for  no  one  else  would 
have  escaped  in  this  way.     Now  go! 

[Karloo  boivs  to  Dona  Rafaele  and  is  again 
about  to  leave.] 

NoiR.     But  the  chains,  Monseigneur? 

Alba.  I  have  already  given  the  order — let  them 
down! 

[Karloo  goes  out. 

Rafaele  [who  is  exhausted].     How  terrible! 

Alba  [to  his  daughter,  who  is  still  in  his  arms,  cry- 
ing]. See  what  you  make  me  do,  you  whimsical, 
spoiled  child! 

Rafaele.  Oh,  I  should  so  like  to  have  seen  at 
least  one  on  our  side — him  especially. 

Alba.     My  dear! 

[110  1 


PATRIE 

Rafaele    [sobbing   desperately].     Now   it's   over. 
No  one  will  ever  care  for  us ! 

Alba.     Rafaele,  my  dearest,  come,  rest  yourself 
— ^you  must  not  be  so  excited. 

Rafaele  [as  before,  to  the  nun  and  the  maid].    Take 
me  now — take  me  away! 

Alba  [alarmed].     The  doctor — quick! 

[The  women  run  to  her.     La  Tremoille  opens 

the  door  and  goes  out  with  them  and  Rafaele, 

at  the  moment  when  Miguel  appears  at  the 

back,  having  entered  by  the  side  door,  which  he 

leaves  open.] 

You    may    retire.    Messieurs — go!     I    shall    keep 

watch.     Good-night.     [He    is    about    to  follow    his 

daughter.] 

NoiR.  [to  whom  IMiGUEL  has  been  speaking  in  an 
undertone],     Monseigneur,  one  thing  more. 

Alba.     I  want  to  hear  nothing!     Leave  me  in 
peace ! 

Vargas.     This  is  very  important! 
Alba.     Not  more  so  than  my  daughter's  health. 
NoiR.     Monseigneur,  I  beg  you ! 
Vargas.     There  is  a  woman  here  who  insists  on 
speaking  to  your  Excellency. 
Alba  [brutally].     Why? 

[Ill] 


PATRIE 

NoiR.  From  what  I  can  gather,  the  matter  is  of 
pressing  importance. 

Alba.     Some  maniac.     To-morrow! 

All  Three  [insistently].     Monseigneur! 

Alba  [losing  his  self-control].  To-morrow,  I  say! 
To-morrow !     [He  turns  to  leave.] 

Dolores  has  entered  during  these  last  words. 

Dolores.  To-morrow,  Monseigneur?  Are  you 
sure  you  will  see  to-morrow? 

[Alba  comes  down-stage  and  looks  at  her.] 
Alba.     That  woman? 

Dolores.     Yes,  that  woman,  who  implores  you, 

Monsieur  le  Due,  who  prays  to  you  to  listen  to  her. 

Alba.     Take  care,  Madame,  for  if  I  find  I  am 

dealing  with  some  fanatic,  you  had  better  go,  for,  by 

the  living  God,  your  head  won't  be  worth  a  sou! 

Dolores.  And  you,  Monseigneur,  had  better 
listen  to  what  I  have  to  say !  And,  by  the  same  God, 
your  head  won't  be  worth  a  sou! 

Alba  [coldly].  Good!  Messieurs,  stand  apart 
and  be  ready  to  come  at  the  first  signal ! 

[Vargas,  Noircarmes,  and  Delrio  go  out  at 
the  left;    Miguel  through  the  large  door  at 
the  back,  while  Alba  closes  that  on  the  right.] 
[  112  1 


r.VTRIE 

Alba.  Now,  Madame,  in  a  word,  what  brings 
you  here? 

Dolores  [pale  and  distracted].  In  a  word,  Mon- 
seigneur,  there  is  a  man  in  this  city  whom  I  hate. 
That  man  threatened  to  kill  me  this  evening,  and, 
worse  still,  to  kill  another  man,  whom  I  love — he  is 
my  lover.     That,  in  a  word,  is  what  brings  me. 

Alba.     And  what  is  this  to  me? 

Dolores  [forcefully] .  It  is  a  great  deal  to  me !  Yet 
it  is  strange  what  I  am  going  to  do.     Let  me  speak! 

Alba.     But 

Dolores  [as  before] .  For  God's  sake,  let  me  speak ! 
I  know  what  I  am  saying !  Don't  you  see,  too,  that 
if  my  reason  returns  to  me,  granted  I  ain  out  of  my 
mind,  I  shan't  say  a  word?  You  don't  know!  Take 
advantage  of  my  madness;  it  will  save  you! 

Alba  [surprised  and  interested,  as  he  sits  on  the 
tabouret].     Continue,  Madame! 

Dolores  [as  before].  Where  was  I?  I  can't  re- 
member! Oh,  yes;  he  threatened  me,  that  man,  and 
left  me  after  saying  that  "he  must  go  to  service." 

Alba.     Service?  in  this  city? 

Dolores.     Yes,  in  this  city!     Do  you  imagine 
that  because  your  soldiers  fill  the  streets  people  don't 
defy  your  edicts — in  secret?     I  swear  to  you  there 
[113] 


PATRIE 

are  ten  thousand  heretics  here,  who  gather  together 
at  night  in  cellars,  in  attics,  behind  walls,  to  praise 
God,  and  curse  you  in  their  own  way!  Then  I  say 
to  myself :  "You  are  going  to  service,  are  you?  And 
you  want  to  kill  him?  Well,  you  will  not  kill  him, 
because  I  can  act  sooner  than  you;  I  can  strike  before 


you  can! 

Alba.     Good ! 

Dolores.  No,  it  is  not  good !  I  tell  you  it  is  in- 
famous !  This  is  between  me  and  God !  I  must  save 
my  lover  first  of  all !  I  will  settle  accounts  with  God 
later! 

Alba.  Did  you  follow  this  man  through  the 
streets? 

Dolores.  The  black  streets!  It  is  a  dead  city, 
except  for  the  patrols  and  your  drunken  soldiers. 
He  goes  on  and  on,  and  I  follow;  he  runs,  then  I  run. 
We  arrive  finally  at  the  Porte  de  Louvain.  Shadows 
come  and  go,  talk  together,  and  separate.  Then 
everything  is  swallowed  up,  disappears  into  a  dark, 
narrow  passage,  that  leads  underground 

Alba.     And  then? 

Dolores.  It  all  passes  from  my  sight,  and  then  I 
want  to  go  down  there,  too,  but  I  hear  a  voice  from 
below:  "Who  goes  there?"  I  am  fearfully  fright- 
l  114  1 


PATRIE 

ened,  and  I  go  back.  Then  the  moon  comes  out — 
no  one!  All  this  confusion,  the  cry  of  the  sentinels 
in  the  distance,  the  clocks  striking  the  hour!  I 
look  about  me,  I  turn  round,  for  I  want  to  know,  I 
want  to  see!  It  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death!  In 
the  midst  of  the  rubbish  I  see  a  deep  trench  that 
sheds  the  rain-water  off  into  the  ditches.  I  put  one 
foot  into  it — cold  as  ice!  Then  I  go  down.  It  is  a 
vault!  Yes,  I  will  chance  it!  I  go  straight  on,  and 
see  a  bluish  light;  I  hear  confused  sounds.  At  last 
I  come  to  an  iron  grate.  I  draw  a  free  breath,  for 
I  can  see;  finally,  I  can  hear! 

Alba.     And  then  what  ? 

Dolores.  In  this  pit  ten  men  are  collected,  un- 
der shelter  of  the  counterscarp.  The  sound  of  their 
talking  comes  to  me  in  gusts,  when  they  speak  louder 
than  usual.  They  take  no  notice  of  the  sentinels  on 
the  rampart,  or  the  postern  guards;  for  these  are  ac- 
complices. [The  Duke  starts.]  Yes!  Yes!  that  is 
what  is  happening  on  your  ramparts !  I  listen  closely, 
and  at  the  very  first  words  I  learn  that  they  are  not 
heretics,  worshipping  God  in  their  own  way:  they 
are  rebels  in  council!  This  is  no  Protestant  service; 
it  is  a  conspiracy!  The  man  they  gather  around, 
standing,  with  uncovered  heads,  is  in  command !  He 
[115] 


PATRIE 

is  no  pastor,  he  is  their  chief :  the  Liberator,  as  they 
call  him !  Your  most  dangerous  enemy — the  Prince 
of  Orange ! 

Alba  [qui cJdy  springing  u J)].  The  Prince?  Ridicu- 
lous, Madame!    Impossible! 

Dolores.  Impossible?  I  saw  him  as  plainly  as  I 
see  you ! 

Alba,  It  was  an  hallucination.  According  to  the 
latest  news,  he  was  fifty  leagues  away,  at  the  gates 
of  Strassburg! 

Dolores.  Yes?  Well,  according. to  the  latest  I 
heard,  he  was  fifty  steps  away,  at  the  gates  of  Brussels ! 

Alba.  Good  God!  If  this  is  true!  I  can't  listen 
to  this  alone!  [He  goes  to  the  door  at  the  left,  opens  it, 
and  calls.]  Vargas!  Noircarmes!  The  die  is  cast! 
Madame,  so  much  the  worse  for  you  if  this  is  false! 
I  have  called  my  men ! 

Dolores  [coming  downstage].  Call  them!  It 
makes  no  difference  to  me  now!  I  have  done  what 
I  had  to  do ! 

Enter  Vargas,  Delrio,  and  Noircarmes. 

Alba.  Messieurs,  do  you  know  what  I  have  been 
told?  The  Prince  of  Orange — at  the  gates  of  Brus- 
sels ! 

[  nni 


PATRIE 

Vargas.    The  Prince? 

Delrio.     Nonsense! 

NoiR.     Impossible!     Who  saw  him? 

Alba.     Madame. 

fV.^RGAs.     Absurd! 
Sinmltaneously  <  Delrio.     How  can  that  be? 
[Noir.     All  our  reports 

Alba  [motioning  them  to  silence,  and  coming 
down  to  Dolores,  passing  behind  her].  Now,  now, 
let  us  keep  cool.  You  have  seen  him,  Madame? 
Good!  And  heard  him,  too.  Did  these  men  say 
anything? 

Dolores.     Yes. 

Alba.     What? 

Dolores.  I  could  see  quite  plainly,  because  of  the 
snow,  but  it  was  hard  to  hear — certain  sentences — 
a  word  here  and  there. 

Alba.  But  what  sentences?  What  words?  Try 
to  recall. 

Dolores.  The  Town  Hall  first.  They  spoke  all 
the  time  about  the  Town  Hall. 

NoiR.     Then,  perhaps,  a  signal? 

Dolores.  Yes,  the  signal!  At  midnight — a  sig- 
nal— from  the  belfry ! 

Vargas.     What  was  it  to  be? 
f  117  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores.  Oh,  I  don't  know — that!  I  did  not 
hear! 

Alba.     That  makes  httle  difference.     What  next? 

Dolores.  At  that  signal  the  whole  city  is  to  rise 
up. 

Vargas.     But — weapons? 

Dolores.     They  are  armed! 

Delrio.     And  the  Prince? 

Dolores.  After  the  signal,  he  is  to  enter  the  city, 
filling  the  streets  with  his  men. 

Alba.     Are  there  many? 

Dolores.     Six  thousand! 

All  [in  terror].     Six  thousand? 

Dolores.  I  heard  that  perfectly !  He  is  to  come 
to  the  Grande-Place — the  chains  will  be  let  down! 
One  of  them  was  to  see  to  that:  he  will  come  here — or 
— he  has  come,  has  he  not? 

Vargas.     Indeed,  he 

Dolores  [triumphantly].     You  see? 

NoiR.     Yes,  a  short  time  ago! 

Delrio.     That  captain? 

Dolores  [excitedly].  He  is  a  conspirator,  a 
traitor!  Didn't  you  suspect  that — didn't  you  un- 
derstand?   The  way  he  talked?    His [Seeing  the 

sword  on  the  table.]  Why,  this  sword!  [She  goes 
I  1181 


PATRIE 

rapidly  to  the  table  and  takes  the  sword;  the  others  follow 
and  crowd  round  her.]  This  sword !  This  is  his ! 
Alba.  Yes.  How  did  you  know? 
Dolores  [first  showing,  then  handing, him  the  sword]. 
Why,  this  neck-cloth — that  is  the  sign  by  which  they 
are  to  recognize  one  another!  Have  that  man  fol- 
lowed, Monseigneur :  he  is  a  conspirator;  he  is  one 
of  their  chiefs — the  boldest  of  them  all;  he  has  even 
dared  to  come  to  you  in  person!  [She  crosses  back 
to  the  right.] 

Alba.     He  will  be  found  again,  Madame. 

[He  hands  the  sword  to  Noircarmes,  2vho  lays  it 
on  the  table.     Delrio  motions  to  MaItre 
Charles,  who  enters.] 
NoiR.     Yes,  he  is  known. 

Alba.     Quick,  now!     Tell  us  about  the  others! 
You  saw  them,  did  you  not.^ 

[Agairi  they  gather  about  Dolores.] 
Dolores.     Yes. 
Vargas.     Do  you  know  them? 
Dolores.     All ! 

Alba  [ttiaking  a  sigti  to  Delrio].     Delrio!     [To 
Dolores.]     Their  names — quickly! 

[Delrio  seats  himself  at  the  table,  and  prepares 
to  write.] 

[119] 


PATRIE 

Dolores  [alarmed].     Their  names? 

Alba.     Yes. 

Dolores.     Must  I  also  give  you — 


Alba.  The  name  of  the  chief  first — this  man  you 
hate! 

Dolores.     He — he  is 

All.     He  is ? 

Dolores  [suddenly  becoming  panic-stricken].  Oh, 
this  is  horrible! 

Vargas.     Tell  us! 

Dolores.  No,  I  don't  want  to!  Leave  me!  I 
am  afraid! 

Alba.     You  are  afraid  for  the  man  you  love? 

Dolores.     Monseigneur! 

Alba.  But  he  will  kill  this  man — remember, 
now. 

Dolores.     Yes ! 

Alba,     He  is  a  heretic! 

NoiR.     A  rebel! 

Vargas.     A  traitor! 

Dolores.     Yes ! 

Alba  [quickly].     Your  husband? 

Vargas.     Rysoor? 

Dolores  [terror-stricken,  as  she  falls  back  toward 
the  table].     I — didn't  say  that! 

[  no  ] 


PATUIE 

Alba.  No,  but  I  suspect  it.  So,  he  is  your  hus- 
band?    [ToDelrio.]     Write:  "Rysoor." 

Dolores.  Monseigneur,  this  is  terrible — you  are 
making  me  sell  my  soul. 

Alba.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  saving  it;  you  are 
doing  this  for  your  King  and  your  God!  Now,  the 
others? 

Dolores.     What  others? 

Vargas.     The  other  conspirators? 

Alba.     Their  names — come,  now! 

Dolores.  But  I  have  nothing  against  them!  I 
don't  want  to  tell  their  names ! 

Alba.     You  will  please  let  us  have  all  the  names. 

Dolores.  But  I  don't  want  to — that  would  be 
too  infamous — they  are  all  innocent!  To  begin  with, 
I  don't  know  them 

Alba  [calmlij].  You  know  them — you  have  just 
told  us  that.     What  are  their  names? 

Dolores  [coming  doum-siage].  Let  me  go!  I 
want  to  leave  here — now!     Let  me  go! 

Alba  [violently  retaining  her,  and  forcing  her  to  her 
knees].  You  are  not  going!  You  are  to  stay  here! 
Now,  tell  us! 

Dolores  [distracted  with  fear].  Monseigneur,  pity 
me! 

[  Ul  ] 


PATRIE 

Alba.     The  names! 

Dolores.     Never ! 

Alba  [taking  hold  of  her  arms,  he  raises  her  so  that 
she  catches  sight  of  Maitre  Charles,  7vho  has  come 
doum-stage  at  the  left].  Their  names!  Their  names! 
You  poor,  God-forsaken  woman,  speak,  or  we  shall 
have  the  executioner  make  you ! 

Dolores  [fai7H  2vith  fear  at  seeing  the  executioner]. 
OGod!     My  God!     Why  did  I  come. 5» 

Alba  [twisting  her  icrists  as  she  hesitates  to  reply]. 
You  were  saying 

Dolores  [she  murmurs  in  an  undertone].     Galena! 

Alba  [to  Noircarmes].     Galena! 

NoiR.  [to  Delrio].     Galena! 

Alba.     Then? 

Dolores  [as  before].  Bakkerzeel — I  think — I 
think — I  am  not  sure. 

Alba  [to  Noircarmes].     Bakkerzeel! 

NoiR.  [to  Delrio].     Bakkerzeel! 

Vargas.     And ? 

Dolores  [nearly  exhausted].     I  don't  know! 

Alba.     Maitre  Charles! 

Dolores  [sobbing  in  desperation].  My  God!  for- 
give me!  forgive  me! 

Alba.     One  more — and  I  will  release  you. 
[  122] 


PATRIE 

Dolores.     The  bellringer,  Jonas. 
[Delrio  inscribes  the  name.] 

Alba.     And  Cornelis,  too,  eh? 

Dolores.  Yes — I  beUeve  so.  Oh,  I'm  dying! 
[She  falls  down,  utterly  worn  out.] 

Alba  [letting  her  hand  drop,  as  he  says  cold- 
bloodedly]. These  will  be  sufficient!  [He  goes  up-stage 
and  writes.  To  Vargas.]  Send  this  to  Navarra. 
[To  Noircarmes.]   Send  this  to  Francisco  Vegas! 

NoiR.  [in  an  undertone].   Very  well,  Monseigneur. 
I  shall  have  some  one  run  off  immediately. 
[They  all  start  to  go.] 

Alba  [stopping  them  with  a  gesture].  In  the  name 
of  heaven,  no !     Not  a  word — and  the  calm  of  death ! 

NoiR.  Good,  Monseigneur!  But  how  about  the 
chains? 

Alba.     Down — as  ordered! 

NoiR.     But  the  captain? 

Alba.  Ah,  that  is  another  matter.  Get  this 
Karloo,  alive  or  dead ! 

Dolores  [rising].     Karloo? 

NoiR.     And  hang  him? 

Alba.     No,  save  him  for  the  scaffold! 

Dolores  [on  her  knees,  deadly  pale].  The  scaf- 
fold!    Karloo? 

I  123  1 


PATRIE 

NoiR.  [ready,  together  with  Delrio  and  IVIaItre 
Charles,  at  the  left].     Van  der  Noot! 

Vargas  [pointing  to  the  sivord  on  the  table].  The 
man  with  the  sword. 

Dolores.     He!     It's  he!     It  is Oh,  God  in 

heaven !     He  is  in  it !     My  Karloo !     And  I  have 

No,  no,  no,   not  that!     [She  attempts  to  get  to  the 
door.] 

Alba  [barring  her  way  and  retaining  her  by  force]. 
I  beg  your  pardon!  You  are  not  to  leave  until  you 
have  orders  to  do  so! 

Dolores  [struggling  to  free  herself].  Let  me  go — 
you !     Let  me  go !     I  want  to  go ! 

Alba.  Go,  Messieurs,  and  have  guards  stationed 
at  every  gate. 

[They  go  oid.    Vargas  leaves  by  the  side-door  on 
the  left.] 

Dolores.     Butchers!     Wretches!     Hangdogs! 

Alba  [throwing  her  aside,  toward  the  left].  It  is 
eleven  o'clock,  Madame;  you  may  leave  at  day- 
break. 

Dolores.     After  you  have  arrested  him,  you 

[The  Duke  stops  and  looks  at  her  with  a  threat- 
ening glance.] 
No,  forgive  me,  Monseigneur!     [She  clings  to  him.] 
f  124  1 


PATRIE 

Have  pity  on  him!  Pity  him!  Take  them  all,  but 
not  him!     Not  my  Karloo! 

Alba  [disengaging  himself  and  pushing  her  aside]. 
Pray  for  him — that  is  the  best  thing  for  you 
to  do',  [He  goes  out  at  the  right,  closing  the  door.  The 
door  is  double-locked;  the  sound  of  the  turning  key  is 
heard.] 

Dolores  [she  throws  herself  against  the  door].  No, 
wait!  Monseigneur !  [She  beats  on  the  door,  trying 
to  break  through  it.]  Open  the  door!  Help!  Help! 
Now  it's  all  over!  I  have  killed  him!  [Sobbing.] 
How  wretched  I  am — and  I  have  killed  him !  I  have 
killed  him!     [She  falls  down,  quite  u-orn  ont.] 

Scene  II:  The  interior  of  the  Brussels  Town  Hall. 
At  the  back  above  the  level  of  the  stage  is  the  Great 
Hall,  the  windows  of  which  shine  in  the  moonlight. 
Down-stage  is  a  tower  room,  under  the  belfry.  These 
two  sectionsofthe  stage  are  connected  by  two  staircases, 
one  to  the  right,  the  other  to  the  left.  Between  these 
staircases,  in  the  middle  of  the  stage,  is  an  archway 
which  leads  from  the  upper  room  to  the  floor.  Down- 
stage to  the  right  is  a  large  door  giving  access  to  an- 
other part  of  the  building  by  means  of  a  staircase  of 
five  steps.  This  staircase  is  open  on  three  sides. 
I  1^)  1 


PATRIE 

To  the  left  is  a  door  opening  upon  the  stairs  to  the 
belfry.  Here  and  there  are  mutilated  statues  and 
debris,  indications  of  the  fact  that  the  Hall  has  been 
pillaged.  To  the  left  is  a  stone  table.  It  is  night,  bid 
the  stage  is  illuminated  by  reflected  moonlight.  Jonas 
and  Galena  appear  under  the  archway  at  the  back: 
Jonas  is  ahead,  and  carries  a  lantern,  also  ttvo 
swords  and  a  hatchet  under  his  arm. 

Jonas  [lighting  the  way  for  Galena].  This  way, 
Seigneur  Galena ! 

Galena.     Where  are  you  taking  me? 

Jonas.  Under  the  belfry,  your  Honour.  Here  is 
the  staircase  leading  to  the  bells. 

Galena.     Oh,  yes,  now  I  know  where  I  am. 

Jonas.  Up  there  is  the  Great  Hall,  where  our 
masters  of  the  Commune  used  to  deliberate. 

Galena.     And  now — what  neglect  and  ruin! 

Jonas.  It's  easy  to  see  that  the  Spanish  senors 
have  passed  this  way!  [Turning  his  lantern  in  the 
direction  of  the  damaged  statues.]  See — our  poor 
burgomasters ! 

Galena.     Patience!     Those    dead    will    resume 
their  places  again — and  the  living,  too!     Are  you 
sure  no  one  ever  comes  here? 
f  126  1 


PATRIE 

Jonas.  No  one  but  myseK.  [He  lays  the  swords  on 
the  table.]  At  any  rate,  here  are  weapons  for  us.  I 
cleaned  them  purposely  for  carnival  time. 

Galena.     Will  you  fight,  too.^ 

Jonas.  To  protect  ray  bells !  Indeed,  I  will !  [He 
lays  the  lantern  on  the  table.] 

Galena.     Sh!  Did  you  hear? 

Jonas  [pointing  to  the  right].     There? 

Galena.     Yes ! 

Enter  Rysoor,  from  the  right. 

Rys.     Is  that  you,  Galena? 

Galena.     Yes, 

Rys.     Is  Karloo  here? 

[Karloo  appears  at  the  back.] 
Karloo.     Have  patience,  friends!     Here  he  is. 
Rys.     Ah!  welcome! 
Galena.     What  news? 
Karloo.     The  best. 
Galena.     The  Sjianiards? 

Karloo.  Safe!  I  have  just  come  from  the 
Duke's. 

Rys.     And  the  chains? 
Karloo.     Let  down  with  my  own  hands ! 
Rysoor  and  Galena  [joyfully].     Good! 
[  1^27  ] 


PATRIE 

Rys.  Then  nothing  is  suspected  at  the  Palace? 
How  about  the  road? 

Karloo.  No  danger.  The  usual  sentinels  and 
patrols!  On  the  Place  there  is  a  guard  of  only  fifty 
men,  half  of  them  asleep  around  the  fire,  while  the 
other  half  are  trying  to  sober  down  after  their 
Mardi-gras  debauch. 

Rys.     Your  musketeers? 

Karloo.  All  ready !  From  the  Hotel  de  Nassau 
as  far  as  the  Grand-Marche  I  gave  the  signal  agreed 
on  at  more  than  fifty  doors,  and  every  one  gave  back 
the  answer:  "We  are  ready!"  Bakkerzeel,  who  is 
on  guard  below,  has  left  all  his  weavers  at  the  Porte 
de  Flandre,  hiding  in  their  cellars.  Lalos  stationed 
his  brewers  on  the  lookout  under  some  sheds. 
Throughout  this  sad  and  silent  city,  where  not  a 
ray  of  light  shines  from  a  window,  where  the  snow 
deadens  the  sound  of  everything,  even  our  footsteps, 
there  is  no  house  but  has  its  eyes  peering  in  the  black 
of  the  night,  its  ears  pricked  up — fully  armed — im- 
patient for  battle. 

Rys.  Let  us  make  ready,  friends;  the  hour  is 
near.  Galena,  warn  Cornelis  and  our  friends  who 
are  waiting  under  the  arcades.  Let  them  all  join  us, 
and  then — forward! 

[  128] 


PATRIE 

Galena.  I  shall  go  at  once.  [To  Jonas.]  Come, 
Jonas!  [They  go  out  at  the  back. 

Rys.  [after  laying  his  cape  and  hat  on  the  table]. 
And  now,  Karloo,  let  me  tell  you  what  I  expect  of 
you. 

Karloo.    Tell  me! 

Rys.  I  have  named  this  rendezvous  for  all  our 
leaders,  because  it  is  the  Town  Hall,  the  communal 
meeting-place  of  the  people. 

Karloo.     I  understand. 

Rys.  In  this  place,  Karloo,  our  fathers  framed 
the  laws  which  we  are  about  to  defend.  From  these 
very  windows  they  proclaimed  those  rights  which 
w^e  are  about  to  assert  once  more!  This  is  the  very 
heart  of  the  city,  of  which  the  Spaniards  have  made 
a  corpse.  Now  let  this  corpse  live  again!  May  it 
rise  up  in  the  night,  magnificent  with  the  flare  of  our 
torches  and  our  bare  swords,  and  cry,  "To  arms!" 
at  the  call  from  every  bell !  Then  will  this  disheart- 
ened people  know  that  Flemish  liberty  still  exists — 
its  great  soul  stirs  again — beneath  our  roofs!  The 
people  know  what  they  are  struggling  for:  for  our 
flag — for  the  ringing  bells.  They  are  the  spirit  of 
the  city!  Better  still,  the  nation;  best  of  all,  the 
Patrie !  And  they  will  fight  and  die  for  Her,  for  She 
f  1^29  1 


PATRIE 

says  to  them:    "Defend  me,  oh,  my  sons,  and  save 
me,  for  I  am  being  crushed — and  I  am  your  mother ! " 

Karloo.     Indeed  she  is. 

Rys.  Here,  then,  Karloo,  is  the  centre  of  the 
struggle;  here  must  we  take  our  stand  at  any  cost, 
until  the  Liberator  arrives !  I  leave  this  sacred  build- 
ing in  your  care.    Command  it,  defend  it. 

Karloo.     In  yours,  rather. 

Rys.  No,  no!  I  have  not  yet  won  the  right,  as 
you  have  at  Saint-Quentin  and  Gravelines,  to  lead 
these  brave  men  to  battle.  Karloo,  I  shall  follow 
you ;  you  must  march  at  their  head !  You  are  the  only 
one  who  can  teach  them  to  conquer;  /  can  but  teach 
them  to  die. 

Karloo.  Very  well,  since  you  wish  it;  but  if  I 
consent,  the  honor  will  be  yours  as  well  as  mine, 
while  for  me  the  danger  is  merely  greater. 

Rys.     Your  sword? 

Karloo.     It  was  taken  from  me  at  the  Palace! 

Rys.  Then  take  this!  [He  takes  the  sivord  lying 
on  the  table,  and  is  about  to  give  it  to  Karloo,  who 
extends  his  ungloved  hand  to  receive  it.  Rysoor  takes 
the  hand  and  utters  a  cnj.]     Ah ! 

Karloo  [surprised].     What  is  the  matter? 

Rys.  [looking  at  hint,  rcnj  pale].     That  hand! 
I  130  1 


PATRIE 

Karloo.     Yes? 

Rys.  [leading  Karloo  io  the  table,  and  examining  the 
palm  of  his  hand  by  lantern  light].     This  wound? 

Karloo.  Ah,  yes;  it  is  only  a  trifle;  my  arm  can 
still  do  its  duty. 

Rys.  [as  before].    And  you?  Have  you  done  yours? 

Karloo  [uneasily].     Rysoor,  what  do  you  mean? 

Rys.     This  wound?     How  did  you  get  it? 

Karloo  [hesitatiiig].     I  was  careless  with  a  sword. 

Rys.     a  Spanish  soldier,  was  he  not? 

Karloo.     Why? 

Rys.     At  night — at  my  home? 

Karloo  [terrified].     Oh! 

^Ys.  [bursting forth].  You  miserable !  It  is  you! 

Karloo.     Rysoor ! 

Rys.  [raising  the  sivord].  You  thief  of  love!  De- 
stroyer of  my  honor!     I  have  a  right  to  kill  you! 

Karloo  [desperately,  as  he  falls  on  his  knees].  Kill 
me,  then !  Death  at  your  hands  would  be  the  sweet- 
est of  tortures!  Kill  me!  You  have  every  right! 
Kill  me! 

Rys.     Blackguard,  you  think  you  can  soften  me! 

Karloo.  For  God's  sake,  kill  me,  Rysoor;  onlj' 
kill  me  at  once !  Your  words  wound  me  far  more  than 
the  cold  steel  of  your  sword  could  possibly  do!  Yes, 
f  131  1 


PATRIE 

1  am  a  blackguard  and  a  coward!  I  have  deceived 
you — it  was  infamous;  I  confess,  and  I  now  weep 
tears  of  blood!  Death!  I  ask  you  for  it  on  bended 
knees — death ! 

Rys.  [letting  his  sword  fall  and  looking  down,  as  he 
sobs  in  desperation].  I  am  so  unhappy !  I  loved  you 
too  much — and  for  this  woman!     That  was  horrible 

enough,  but  that  of  all  men  it  should  be  you  who • 

You,  Karloo — Karloo,  to  whom  I  have  unburdened 
my  whole  heart!  And  loved  you  as  a  son!  What 
poison  is  there  in  your  love  for  this  woman  that  turns 
a  loyal  and  generous  soul  like  yours  to  a  festering 
mass  of  treason  and  ingratitude?  I  had  faith  in  but 
three  things:  the  Patrie,  her,  and  you!  You  see 
what  remains— and  it  is  your  fault!  Only  tell  me — 
tell  me  what  I  have  done  to  you,  that  you  should 
make  me  suffer  as  I  do? 

Karloo.  You  arc  torturing  me !  This  is  frightful ! 
Stop !    Don't  reproach  me  this  way ! 

Rys.  What  if  I  do  kill  you?  Will  your  death 
give  me  back  my  honor?  My  peace  that  has  been 
destroyed?  Will  it  heal  the  wound  which  is  now 
sapping  my  life's  blood? 

Karloo.     My  God!     You  still  insist — — 

Rys.  What  good  will  your  death  do  me?  Satisfy 
\  132  1 


PATKIE 

my  desire  for  revenge?    Will  it  serve  the  cause  which 
we  are  now  defending? 

Karloo.     Do  you  want 

Rys.  Will  your  dead  body  lead  these  men  into 
battle? 

Karloo.     I  am  no  longer  worthy ! 

Rys.  Worthy  or  not,  does  your  blood  belong  to 
me?  When  the  whole  city  has  scarcely  enough  in  its 
veins  for  to-night's  struggle!  Should  it  waste  these 
precious  drops,  should  I  strike  low  this  arm  of  yours 
which  must  defend  us  all?  Great  God,  no!  If  I  did 
that,  I  should  be  guilty  of  treason  as  great  against 
Her  as  yours  is  against  me.  I  have  no  more  right  to 
rob  Her  of  your  courage  than  you  have  to  deprive 
me  of  my  happiness! 

Karloo.     Then  you  refuse? 

Rys.     Make  ready,  and  take  that  sword! 

Karloo.     I? 

Rys.  Take  that  sword,  I  tell  you,  and  go  battle! 
Go  where  your  duty  calls,  where  my  duty  sends  you! 
If  God  \\'ill  that  you  die,  do  not  die  like  a  criminal, 
but  like  a  martyr,  like  a  soldier.  Then  at  least  your 
death  will  have  served  some  cause! 

Karloo  [dejectedly  taking  the  sivord].     You  will 
never  again  see  me  living:   that  I  swear  to  you! 
1133  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  [quickly].  Living?  Very  well,  it  makes  no 
diflference,  so  long  as  you  conquer! 

Karloo  [standing  u'p,  ivarmly].  That  gives  me 
some  hope  of  forgiveness,  Rysoor! 

Rys.  Go,  now — and  take  revenge  on  yourself. 
You  have  robbed  me  of  my  honor;  give  me  my 
liberty!  A  woman,  ha!  Give  me  back  my  Paine .' 
We  shall  see  later  whether  your  bravery  has  washed 
clean  your  crime,  and  whether  I  ought  to  be  grateful 
to  you  or  hate  you ! 

Karloo.  You  will  forgive  me,  Rysoor!  I  will 
make  you!  [To  his  sword.]  Ready,  now,  and  help 
me  win  my  cause! 

Enter  Galena,  Bakkerzeel,  Cornells,  Jonas,  and 
other  conspirators  armed. 

Galena.  Rysoor,  all  the  men  are  below,  waiting 
for  the  signal.     It  is  time  now. 

Rys.  [pointing  to  Karloo].  Karloo  is  to  command 
you! 

Bak.     Karloo,  here  we  are! 

Karloo.     Are  you  all  armed  and  ready.'* 

All.     All! 

Karloo.  Ready  to  brave  the  stake,  to  face  tor- 
ture and  death? 

f  134  1 


PATRIE 

All.     All  of  us! 

Karloo.  To  work,  then !  Now  if  the  heart  of  one 
of  you  fail  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  remember  that 
your  defeat  delivers  your  wives  and  children  to  the 
fury  of  the  Spaniards!  Think  of  your  city  being 
pillaged,  your  homes  in  ashes — and  blame  this  in- 
famous Spain! 

All  [together  in  confused  uproar].     Yes,  yes!     To 
arms !    Forward !     Let  us  attack ! 
Rys.     Silence !     Listen ! 

[There  is  a  pause;  the  beat  of  Spanish  drums  is 
heard  in  the  far  distance.] 
Karloo.     The  drum! 
Rys.     Beating  the  charge ! 

Jonas  [running  down  from  the  back  of  the  stage]. 
The  Spaniards! 

[Gunshots  are  heard.] 
All.     Treason ! 

Karloo.  Very  well !  Let  us  lose  no  time !  Cry  out 
in  the  Place :  "To  arms ! "  my  friends !  Ten  thousand 
fighters  will  come  forth  out  of  the  night  in  answer, 

[More  gunshots;   trumpets  sound,  and  the  beat 
of  drums  approaches,  on  the  charge.] 
Guard    the    archway,    Cornelis!     Bakkerzeel,    you 
the  stairway! 

[  135  ] 


PATRIE 

Galena  [fruvi  above].  There  they  are  on  the 
Place! 

Karloo.  Rysoor,  watch  this  door!  [He  points 
to  the  door  at  the  right,  to  which  Rysoor  quickly  goes.] 
And  the  signal!  For  God's  sake,  Jonas,  the  signal, 
or  we  are  lost!  [To  the  others.]  You  there,  guard 
the  windows! 

[He  rushes  to  the  left  stairway  at  the  moment 
when  Jonas  disappears  up  the  stairs  leading 
to  the  belfry.  Again  the  reports  of  mushets 
are  heard.  Just  after  Karloo  reaches  the 
stairs  with  the  conspirators,  a  troop  of 
Spaniards  under  the  leadership  of  Noir- 
CARMES  appears  in  the  large  hall  above,  flags 
flying,  drums  and  trumpets  sounding  the 
charge.  The  conspirators,  ivho  number  more 
than  a  dozen,  return  from  the  stairs  and  make 
their  way  headlong  to  the  archway,  whence  Cor- 
nells and  his  men  are  flung,  while  Bakker- 
zeel  and  his  companions  defend  the  stairway 
on  the  right.  More  shots  are  heard.] 
Karloo.     To  the  Great  Gate ! 

[He  springs  forward  ivith  his  men  to  the  prin- 
cipal doorway,  on  the  right;  this  he  tries  to 
open,  but  cannot.     At  the  same  time  the  door 

f  i:50l 


PATRIE 

leading  to  the  belfry  opens,  and  a  company  of 
Spaniards,  led  by  Miguel,  comes  forth,  with 
Jonas  in  their  midst,  his  hands  bound.  This 
company  fires  on  the  conspirators,  ivho  are 
forced  back  to  the  stairs  leading  to  the  prin- 
cipal entrance,  leaving  their  dead  where  they 
fell.] 
Rys.  [shoivering  blows  on  the  closed  door].  This 
door! 

Karloo.     Break  it  in!     [He  takes  a  hatchet  and 
beats  furiously  on  the  door.] 

^oiB..  [from  above].     Surrender! 
Karloo  [who  continues  his  task].     Never!     Long 
live  Flanders! 
All  the  Conspirators.     Long  live  Flanders! 
NoiR.  [to  his  men].     Fire! 

[The  Spaniards  fire.      Seven  or  eight  conspira- 
tors fall  dead  or  wounded  on  the  steps.] 
Karloo  [as  tf/or^].     Fire! 

[The  cotispirators  return  the  volley.  The 
Spaniards,  ivho  icere  advancing,  now  retreat. 
On  the  side  of  the  conspirators  only  Rysoor, 
Karloo,  Galena,  Bakkerzeel,  and  five 
others  remain  stayiding.] 
Rys.  Courage,  Karloo! 
f  1:57  1 


PATRIE 


Ka-RLOO  {finally  breaking  the  lock].    The  door  is 


giving 


[The  door  falls  outward,  causing  considerable 
uproar.  They  rush  forward,  but  fall  back 
a  moment  later  before  other  soldiers  who  ad- 
vance against  them.  Karloo  is  armed  only 
with  the  hatchet;  Rysoor  and  the  others 
retreat  toward  the  centre  of  the  stage,  forming 
a  little  group.  They  have  only  swords  with 
which  to  defend  themselves.] 
NoiR.  [raising  his  staff].     Forward! 

[They  charge  again.     All  the  Spaniards  descend 
the  great  stairs  at  the  back  in  a  body,  and  sur- 
round the  conspirators  loith  a  circle  of  steel 
and  muskets.] 
Rys.     Now  we  have  only  to  die! 
Karloo.     Fire,  you  cowards — fire!     You  see,  we 
will  not  surrender! 

[They  throw  down  their  weapons.  Noircar- 
MES  raises  his  sword  to  give  the  signal  to 
fire  as  Alba  appears  at  the  head  of  the  stair- 
way, in  full  battle  array,  his  commanding 
baton  in  hand.  Behind  him  are  his  officers. 
La  Tremoille  is  among  these.  Alba 
stretches  forth  his  baton;  the  drums  cease 
[  138  1 


PATllIE 

beating,  the  trumpets  are  silent,  every  musket 
is  lowered.] 
Alba  [to  the  conspirators,  after  a  pause].     Which  of 
you.  Messieurs,  do  you  consider  your  leader? 
Karloo.     I ! 

Rys.  [interrupting  him].  In  battle,  yes,  but  here — 
it  is  I !     Comte  de  Rysoor ! 

Alba.  Very  well,  Monsieur  le  Comte.  Now  that 
we  are  in  a  position  to  receive  William  of  Orange 
we  shall  ask  him  to  enter  the  city — [consternation 
among  the  conspirators]— a,nd  then  make  an  end  to 
the  rebellion  by  depriving  him  of  his  head. 

Rys.  [anxiously,  to  Karloo].  Ah!  if  he  enters  he 
is  lost. 

Alba.     Wliat  signal  have  you  agreed  on? 
Rysoor  [hopefully].     Thank  God,  you  don't  know 
that,  hangdog! 

Alba.     Rincon,   bring  me  the  bellringer  Jonas. 
[Jonas  is  brought  forth  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
bound.] 
Do  you  know  the  signal? 
Jonas  [trembling].     Yes,  Monseigneur! 
Alba.     Loose  his  hands,  and  let  him  sound  it. 

[A  soldier  unties  Jonas's  hands.] 
K.AJILOO  [quickly].     Jonas,  don't  do  it! 
f  139  1 


PATRIE 

Rysoor.     Don't! 

Jonas   [terror-stricken].     I'm   only   a   poor    man, 

Messieurs.     They'll  kill  me,  and  I  have  a  wife  and 

children ! 

Karloo  [supplicating  him].  There  are  three 
million  souls  to  save!  Your  children  are  among 
them! 

Rys.     Save  the  Prince! 

Karloo.     Save  Flanders! 

Rys.  On  my  bended  knees,  Jonas.  I  beg  you  on 
bended  knees 

Jonas  [who,  after  being  free,  has  been  taken  to  the 
left  by  Rincon].     My  God!     My  God! 

Alba  [furiously].     Put  an  end  to  this! 

The  Conspirators  [intercepting  Jonas,  clinging  to 
him  as  he  is  being  taken  out  into  the  passage].  Jonas — 
don't  ring ! 

Alba  [to  Rincon].  Put  a  pistol  to  his  throat;  if 
he  winces,  kill  him ! 

[Jonas  is  dragged  to  the  staircase  leading  to  the 
belfry.  The  conspirators  hang  back,  and  ap- 
pear desperate.] 

Alba.  Has  everything  been  made  ready,  Noir- 
carmes? 

NoiR.     Oh,  Monseigneur,  the  moment  the  Prince 
f  140  1 


rVTRIE 

enters  the  city  he  will  find  himself  between  two  fires: 
not  a  man  will  get  as  far  as  the  Place. 

Alba  [triumphantly].  At  last  I  have  him  between 
my  fingers! 

Rys.  Good  God,  merciful  Saviour,  do  not  allow 
this  iniquity!  Save  the  Prince,  save  him!  Thou 
owest  us  at  least  that  much! 

[There  is  a  pause,  then  the  bell  rings.     Every  one 

listens  anxiously.     The  death-knell  strikes. 

The  conspirators  cannot  restrain  a  movement 

of  joy.] 

Alba  [nervously,  us  he  looks  at  the  conspirators]. 

The  death-knell! 

NoiR.     Yes,  Monseigneur. 
Alba.     Is  that  the  signal.^ 

Karloo  [radiantly].  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Due,  that 
is  the  signal,  but  it  says  to  the  Prince:  "Do  not 
enter — go  away!"  It  is  the  signal  that  saves  him, 
and  with  him  the  liberty  of  Flanders ! 

Alba  [furiously].  By  the  fires  of  hell,  stop  that 
man!     Kill  him,  kill  him!     Kill  him!  I  say. 

[A  gunshot  is  heard  in  the  belfry.     The  bell  stops 
ringing.] 

NoiR.     It  is  done! 

full 


PATRIE 

Alba.  But  too  late — he  will  escape.  I  must  wait 
for  another  chance ! 

[Four  soldiers  enter  from  the  staircase  leading 

to  the  belfry,  carrying  the  body  of  Jonas  07i 

their  muskets.] 

RiNCON  [stopping  the  soldiers,  and  raising  the  mantle 

which  covers  Jonas,  to  see  whether  the  man  is  dead].    He 

is  dead,  Monsieur  le  Due ! 

Rys.  [taking  off  his  hat  before  the  body,  as  do  all  the 
conspirators].  Poor  obscure  martyr,  we  honor  you! 
One  second's  deed  has  made  a  martyr  of  you!  May 
our  children  revere  your  memory  and,  when  they  are 
free,  take  thought  of  the  humble  bellringer  to  whom 
they  will  owe  their  freedom. 

[JoNAs's  body  is  carried  under  the  archway.] 
Come,  Messieurs,  on  this  beautiful   night  only   v^e 
are  lost !    Long  live  Flanders ! 

The  Conspirators.     Long  live  Flanders! 
Alba.     Take  away  these  men,  Noircarmes — the 
scaffold  on  the  Place,  there — to-night,  and  every 
night  hereafter! 

[The  conspirators  are  surrounded  and  conducted 
up  the  large  staircase  to  the  left.] 
La  Tremoille  [as  they  mount  the  first  steps].    Mes- 
sieurs— [they  stop  and  turn  around] — I  salute  you — 
f  142  1 


PATRIE 

and  I  have  but  one  regret:  to  be  deprived  of  the 
honor  of  being  one  of  your  number. 
Alba.     Marquis! 

La  Tremoille  [putting  on  his  hat  again  and  looking 
straight  at  the  Duke].  For  all  the  gold  of  my  ransom, 
Monsieur  le  Due,  I  would  not  say  the  same  to  you ! 

[The  conspirators  ascend  the  staircase  between 
two  files  of  soldiers.  Drums  heat,  and  trum- 
pets sound,  as  the  curtain  falls.] 

Curtain. 


148 


ACT  IV 


ACT   IV 

Scene  I:  A  room  in  the  Palace  contiguous  to  the 
Court  of  Blood.  Down-stage  to  the  right,  opening 
upon  a  small  platform  leading  to  the  stage  by  two 
steps,  is  the  entrance  to  the  Court.  To  the  left  is  a 
door  leading  to  the  apartments  of  the  Duke  of  Alba. 
Halfway  up-stage,  right,  is  an  alcove;  to  the  left  is 
another,  similar  to  that  on  the  opposite  side.  In  the 
centre  is  a  large  table  covered  with  a  black  cloth;  there 
is  a  chair  to  the  right  and  one  to  the  left  of  this  table. 
At  the  back  of  the  stage  is  a  large  fireplace,  above 
which  hang  the  arms  of  the  House  of  Austria.  Mural 
paintings  adorn  the  ivalls,  representing  martyrs  and 
saints.  There  is  a  sombre,  sinister  air  about  the 
wJwle  room.  It  is  daytime.  Alba,  Noircarmes, 
Vargas,  and  Rixcox  are  present  as  the  curtain  rises. 
There  is  also  a  soldier  at  the  door  of  the  left  alcove. 

Alba.    Noircarmes! 
NoiR.     ISIonseigneur? 

[147] 


PATRIE 

Alba  [who  has  just  come  from  the  chamber  of  torture 
and  walked  in  silence  to  a  position  in  front  of  the  table]. 
What  is  the  time? 

NoiR.     Seven  o'clock,  Monsieur  le  Due. 

Alba.     Is  everything  ready  on  the  Place? 

NoiR.     Yes,  Monseigneur. 

Alba.     The  scaffold?     The  faggots? 

NoiR.     The  scaffold  is  just  being  erected. 

Alba.  Rincon,  the  Lombard  regiment  on  the 
Place,  as  when  Egmont  and  Horn  were  disposed  of. 

Rincon.     Very  well.  Monsieur  le  Due. 

Alba.  The  Sardinian  regiment  will  guard  all  the 
city  gates,  which  are  now  being  closed,  and  which 
will  not  be  opened  again  until  after  the  execution. 
The  Sicilian  and  Neapolitan  regiments  will  perform 
their  usual  duties.  Serbelloni  will  place  cannons 
loaded  with  grapeshot  at  every  entrance  to  the 
Grande-Place.     That  will  do! 

[Rincon  goes  out  through  alcove  at  the  right. 

Vargas.  Monseigneur,  the  Ambassador  from 
France  has  received  the  ransom  for  Monsieur  de  la 
Tremoille  on  a  bill  through  the  House  of  Fuggers  at 
Augsburg. 

Alba  [signing  a  passport  which  lies  on  the  table].     A 
passport  to  Lille  for  this  Frenchman.     Let  him  leave 
f  148  1 


PATKIE 

the  place  immediately.     [He  gives  Vargas  the  pass- 
port.] 

Vargas.  \  cry  well,  ^Slonscigneur.  [He  goes  to 
the  soldier,  hands  him  the  passport,  and  returns  down- 
stage, as  the  soldier  goes  out.] 

Alba  [seated  at  the  right  of  the  table].  Noircarmes, 
we  must  know  more  about  this  matter;  here  is  an 
entire  city  in  revolt — we  have  only  this  handful  of 
men ;  the  rest  are  at  large.  I  must  have  their  names ! 
Their  names,  I  say!  if  we  have  to  execute  half  the 
citizens 

NoiR.     Wc  shall  see  to  that,  Monsoigncur. 

Alba.  I  count  on  your  doing  so!  This  Rysoor, 
for  instance,  the  soul  of  the  conspiracy — tell  Maitre 
Charles  that  he  must  be  questioned  in  an  exquisite 
manner — even  if  he  dies  on  the  rack!  If  our  old 
methods  of  inquisition  fail  to  produce  results,  let  him 
invent  new  ones! 

NoiR.  Maitre  Charles  shall  be  Informed,  Mon- 
sieur le  Due. 

[He  goes  oid  into  the  inquisition  chamber. 

Alba.     By  the  way,  is  that  woman — his  wife 

Vargas.       We  found  her  in  your  Excellency's 
room — she  had  fainted — she  looked  as  if  she  were 
dead.     We  tried  to  prevent  her  leaving  the  Palace, 
[  149  1 


PATRIE 

but  her  cries  were  so  terrible  that  we  were  afraid 
Dona  Rafaele 

Alba  [rising  and  speaking  quickly].  Good  God! 
my  daughter  must  know  nothing  of  all  this. 

Vargas.     That  goes  without  saying,  Monseigneur. 

Alba.  Are  you  sure  she  heard  nothing  this  even- 
ing? 

Vargas.  I  believe  so,  Monseigneur.  In  any 
event,  Maitre  Alberti  can  tell  her 

Alba.  Yes,  yes,  tell  the  doctor  to  come  here — 
at  once !  And  that  woman,  too !  Bring  her !  I  want 
to  have  done  with  her  once  for  all ! 

Vargas.  Very  well,  Monseigneur.  [He  goes  out 
through  the  alcove  to  the  left.] 

Enter  Alberti  through  the  door  down-stage  to  the  left. 

Alba  [going  quickly  to  the  doctor;  quietly  and 
anxiously].     Maitre  Alberti,  how  is  our  patient? 

Alberti.  Passing  a  better  night  than  I  had  an- 
ticipated, Monseigneur. 

Alba  [pressing  Alberti's  hands].  Thank  you, 
Alberti,  for  this  good  news!  She  heard  nothing  of 
the  drums,  or  the  fusillades? 

Alberti.  Nothing,  Monsieur  le  Due — fortunately ! 
But  I  cannot  conceal  from  your  Excellency  that  the 
[  150  1 


PATRIE 

preparations  now  under  way  make  me  very  appre- 
hensive for  Dona  Rafaele. 
Alba.     Ah! 

[Dolores  enters  through  the  alcove  to  the  left, 
folloived  by  Vargas.     She  crosses  the  stage 
between  the  fireplace  and  the  table.     She  has 
heard  the  last  words  of  Albertt.     The  Duke 
does  not  notice  her  presence.] 
Alberti.     In  her  present  condition,  the  sUghtest 
emotional  strain  might  prove  fatal.     Your  Excel- 
lency was  able  to  calm  her  only  by  promising  to 
sacrifice  no  more  victims,  and  if  she  were  to  learn 
that  this  morning  five  men  were  burned  on  the 

Place 

Dolores  [aside,  terror-stricken].     This  morning? 
Alba  [quickly].     She  need  not  know. 
Alberti.     No — that  would  kill  her! 
Alba  [as  before].     She  shall  not  know!     Alberti, 
have  her  wakened! 

Alberti.     She  is  already  awake,  Monseigneur. 
Alba.     Then  let  her  women  dress  her,  at  once! 
Order  a  chair,  and  hiivQ  her  taken  to  the  Convent  of 
Groenendaal,  where  she  shall  remain  until  to-night. 
Alberti.     Very  well,  jNIonseigneur — at  once! 
Alba  [intercepting  him  as  he  turns  to  go].     You  will 
[  l.n  ] 


PATRIE 

save  her  for  me,  Albert! — promise  me  you  will  save 
her? 

Alberti.  With  the  help  of  God,  Monseigneur! 
Alba  [accompanying  him  to  the  door].  Yes,  yes, 
you  will  save  her.  I  will  cover  you  with  medals  and 
honors!  I  will  make  you  the  greatest  doctor  in 
Christendom!  Now  go,  dear  Alberti,  go!  You  know 
how  much  I  think  of  you — quickly,  now ! 

[Alberti  goes  out  through  the  same  door  by 

which  he  entered.     Alba  turns  round  and  sees 

Dolores.     He  makes  a  sign  to  Vargas,  who 

goes  out  through  the  alcove  to  the  left,  and  then 

addresses  Dolores  in  a  brusque  and  harsh 

m,anner.] 

Alba.     Now,  Madame,  your  case!     You  want  to 

save  Karloo's  life,  do  you  not?     Well,  you  cannot! 

Dolores.     Monseigneur ! 

Alba.  You  cannot!  The  man  is  a  traitor — he 
has  been  caught  red-handed,  sword  in  hand.  He  de- 
serves to  die,  and  he  shall  die !  Spare  me  your  tears 
and  entreaties! 

Dolores.     My  tears!     I  have  no  more!     I  have 
been  crying  all  night ! 
Alba.     Well? 

Dolores.     Monsieur  le  Due,  this  is  infamous! 
[152] 


I'ATRIE 

Alba.     Madame ! 

Dolores.  Infamous!  I  came  to  you  this  even- 
ing, and  made  a  bargain  with  you.  Deny  it!  I  said 
to  you:  "There  is  a  man  I  love;  some  one  wants  to 
kill  him,  and  you,  too!  Give  me  his  life  for  yours! 
Save  his  hfe,  and  I  will  save  yours ! "  Did  I  say  that, 
did  I? 

Alba.     If  heaven  has  seen  fit 

Dolores.  Heaven  has  nothing  to  do  with  this. 
Let  us  stay  in  this  hell  where  we  are,  you  and  I!  I 
have  kept  my  promise,  I,  a  woman!  You  are  the 
Duke  of  Alba,  a  nobleman  of  Spain,  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  Netherlands !  If  you  fail  to  keep  your 
promise  with  me  you  are  not  even  a  gentleman.  I 
implore  you  to  keep  your  word  as  a  man  of  honor ! 

Alba.  Listen  to  me,  Madame!  If  any  one  but 
you  dared  address  me  in  this  way,  he  would  never 
leave  this  place  alive!  As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  have 
rendered  a  service  to  His  Majesty! 

Dolores.     To  you! 

Alba.  To  me?  Very  well — and  to  prove  that  I 
realize  it — you  are  still  here! 

Dolores.  Ah,  why  not  arrest  me,  and  make  your 
infamy  complete? 

Alba.     And  why  not? 

\  lo3  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores.  You  dare  a  great  deal,  Monsieur  le 
Due,  but  you  would  not  do  that ! 

Alba.  Perhaps  I  would.  Now,  since  we  are  on 
the  subject  of  honor,  where  I  allow  no  one  to  in- 
struct me,  let  rae  tell  you  that  I  never,  never  promised 
you  the  life  of  this  man — never! 

Dolores.  When  you  encouraged  me  to  betray 
all  the  others  for  his  sake,  wasn't  that  a  promise? 
And  the  leader  of  them  all — do  you  know  who  he 
was? 

Alba.  You  have  just  condemned  him !  You  were 
pleading  here  for  your  lover,  when  you  should  have 
thrown  yourself  at  my  feet  for  your  husband. 

Dolores.  This  is  horrible!  I  know  it  better 
than  you — but  that  you  should  blame  me!  By  now 
you  would  have  been  dragged  through  the  gutters  of 
the  city,  with  a  rope  round  your  neck.  [The  Duke 
starts.]  Come,  now,  you  know  that  would  have  hap- 
pened, unless  I  had  been  a  faithless  wife,  a  woman 
mad  with  love !  You  are  an  accomplice  in  my  crime, 
you  who  reap  the  benefit! 

Alba.     Ah! 

Dolores.  You  alone!  Yes,  you!  Now,  Mon- 
sieur le  Due,  let  us  not  play  the  hypocrite,  you  and  I; 
you  are  as  bad  as  I !  I  have  done  something  awful — 
f  154  1 


PATRIE 

to  tell  the  secret  of  these  poor  men,  and  sell  it  to  you; 
but  you  must  admit  that  it  is  atrocious  for  you  to 
catch  them  in  your  net  and  then  shed  their  blood  in 
the  public  square !  That  is  your  passion :  despotism ! 
Mine  was  adultery!  We  are  equally  guilty;  both 
are  implicated  in  the  same  murder !  Only  I  denounce 
while  you  execute;  I  am  the  greater  coward  of  the 
two,  you  the  more  ferocious.  That  is  the  only  dif- 
ference ! 

Alba.     Madame,  take  care ! 

Dolores.  No,  I  am  mistaken :  you  are  the  cleverer, 
for  you  get  all  the  spoils.  Well,  I  want  my  share. 
If  you  don't  give  it  to  me,  I  will  cry  from  the  house- 
top that  the  Duke  of  Alba  is  a  coward,  he  puts  the 
dagger  in  your  hand,  and,  when  the  deed  is  done,  re- 
fuses to  pay  you ! 

Alba  [enraged].     Then  you  will 

Dolores  [losing  her  self-control] .  I  want  my  share ! 
I  want  it!  I  have  saved  you,  you  and  your  army. 
I  have  delivered  three  million  souls  into  your 
hands,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  you  refuse  me 
the  life  of  a  single  man!  Monseigneur,  you  must 
be  mad !  Give  him  to  me — pay  me !  Then  we  shall 
be  even ! 

Alba.  We  are  now.  I  am  not  condemning  him, 
[155  1 


PATRIE 

but  you,  for,  as  I  have  been  listening  to  you,  I  have 
condemned  you  to  death  three  times! 

Dolores.     Me? 

Alba  [bursting  forth].  Leave  this  room — leave  it! 
leave  it!  I  say.  The  man  is  going  to  die!  And  if 
you  say  another  word — [he  points  to  the  torture  cham- 
ber]— I  will  torture  you. 

DohORES  [terror-stricken].  Oh,  Monseigneur!  Pity 
me !     It  was  wrong  to  threaten,  I  haven't  the  right ! 

I  don't  ask  it — I  beg  you — I  implore 

[  The  Duke  goes  to  the  table  and  rings  a  bell.] 
Monseigneur,  God  doesn't  pardon  those  who  have 
no  pity.     For  your  daughter's  sake,  have  pity  on  the 
man  who  saved  your  life! 

Alba  [calling].     Vargas! 

Dolores  [desperately].  Devil!  I  dug  down  to 
his  heart — but  has  he  a  heart? 

Enter  Vargas  and  Alberti. 

Alba  [to  Alberti].     Well? 

Albert:.  Monsieur  le  Due,  Dona  Rafaele  is  ready. 
She  is  now  coming — here  she  is 

Dolores  [hopefully].     Ali! 

Alba   [going  quickly  to  meet  his  daughter].     Not 
here!     Take  that  woman  out! 
f  156  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores.     No,  I  will  not  go! 
Alba  [angrilij].     Vargas! 

Dolores  [pushing  Vargas  away].  I  will  not  go! 
Don't  touch  me!  I  will  tell  her  everything  if  you 
do! 

Alba  [terrible  in  his  fury].     One  word  and  you  die! 
[At  the  moment  when  Vargas  tries  to  drag  Do- 
lores/ro?«  the  room.  Dona  Rafaele  enters 
from  the  apartment  on  the  left,  with  a  nun 
and  a  maidservant.     Vargas  falls  back,  and 
Dolores  remains  standing  where  she  was.] 
Alba  [turning  around.     To  his  daughter,  who  comes 
in  smiling,  as  he  takes  her  in  his  arms].    Ah,  Rafaele, 
my  darling  girl — and  all  alone  like  this? 

Rafaele  [gayly].  You  see?  I  feel  very  well  this 
morning.  [She  coughs.  ^MaItre  Alberti  takes  the 
chair  away  from  the  left  side  of  tJie  table,  and  places  it 
for  her.] 

Alba  [anxiously].     But 

Rafaele.  Oh,  that  is  nothing!  Is  it,  Maitre  Al- 
berti? 

Alba.     Did  he  tell  you 

Rafaele.    Yes;  you  want  me  to  go  to  Groenen- 
daal? 
Alba.     You  have  not  been  out  for  so  long ! 
[  l.>7  ] 


PATRIE 

Rafaele.     It  will  be  good  for  me! 

Alba.  And  you  will  come  back  to  me  in  time  for 
supper.  Alberti,  have  the  shawls  and  blankets  been 
seen  to? 

Alberti  [pointing  to  the  wraps  of  various  sorts 
ivhich  the  women  are  carrying].    Yes,  Monsieur  le  Due. 

Alba.     Well,  go,  then,  dearest! 

[Dolores  moves  about,  thus  calling  attention  to 
herself.] 

Rafaele.  This  evening,  then!  [Seeing  Dolores 
— in  an  vndertone.]     Oh,  I  had  not  seen  this  lady 

Alba  [trying  to  7(sher  his  daughter  out  of  the  door]. 
She — she  is  just  a — a  person  of  the  town. 

Rafaele  [standing  her  ground].  She  seems  so  sad 
— has  she  been  crying.'' 

Alba  [again  trying  to  urge  her  out].     Possibly. 

Rafaele  [aside  to  her  father].  Some  poor  woman 
who  has  asked  you  a  favor? 

Alba.     Yes — and  now,  good-bye! 

Rafaele.  See,  I  guessed !  [  To  her  father,  coquet- 
tishly.]     Don't  you  want  to  grant  it? 

Alba.     No,  indeed. 

Rafaele.     But  mine?     Won't  you  grant  mine? 

Alba.     Yours? 

Rafaele.     I  feel  so  well  this  morning — see  how 

f  ir>8  1 


PATRIE 

easily  I  breathe!     I  ha\e  not  felt  so  well  for  many  a 
day. 

\lb A  [joyf  idly].  How  glad  I  am!  How  prof oundly 
happy ! 

Rafaele.     You  are  happy,  are  you  not? 

Alba.     My  God!  yes! 

Rafaele.  Well,  this  happiness  must  not  be  for  us 
alone,  then;  and  to  thank  God  for  what  we  have  re- 
ceived, please  let  this  poor  lady  have  what  she  asks  for. 

Alba  [impatiently].     I  cannot.     Now  go. 

Rafaele.     Then  it  is  something  serious? 

Alba  [forgetting  Jiimself].     Very! 

Rafaele  [suddenly,  and  alarmed].  Ah!  something 
I  know  nothing  about — something  you  are  hiding 
from  me? 

Alba  [quickly].     Not  at  all! 

Rafaele.  But  those  drums  last  night?  Those 
shots? 

Alba  .     Oh — nothing ! 

Rafaele  [casting  a  look  of  interrogation  toward  the 
two  wometi].  ]\Iy  God!  and  you  promised  me!  If 
there  were  to  be  more  killing 

AijBA  [quickly].     I  tell  you  there  is  nothing !    Abso- 
lutely nothing!     [Looking  at  Dolores  angrily,  and 
in  an  undertone.]     That  danmed  woman! 
f  159  1 


PATRIE 

Rafaele  [going  quickly  past  her  father].  If  tliere 
is  nothing,  then  you  can  grant  it.  I  shall  speak  to 
her.     I 

Alba.     Rafaele! 

Rafaele  [to  her  father].  Let  me  be — I  will!  [To 
Dolores,  as  she  sits  on  the  chair  to  the  left  of  the  table.] 
Will  you  tell  me  your  trouble,  Madame? 

[Alba     stands    behind    his    daughters    chair, 
threatening  Dolores  with  a  look.] 

Dolores  [who  is  standing  in  front  of  the  table — 
softly].  Oh,  Madame,  it  is  simple  enough :  it  is  about  a 
person  who  is  known  to  your  Grace:  Captain  Karloo. 

Rafaele.     I  should  think  I  do  know  him !     Well? 

Dolores.     Well,    Seiiora,    he    was    arrested    last 

night 

[The  Duke  starts.] 

Rafaicle.     Arrested? 

Dolores  [looking  defiantly  at  the  Duke].  And  on 
such  a  slight  suspicion!  Monsieur  le  Due  will  tell 
you  how  unimportant  it  was. 

Rafaele.  Possibly  that  was  what  happened  yes- 
terday evening? 

Dolores.     Probably — yes 

Rafaiole  [reproachfully].  Oh,  Father,  you  are  too 
severe ! 

I  KK)  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores.     Is  he  not? 

Rafaele.     Well,  if  this  is  all 

[Alba  goes  behind  his  daughter,   keeping  his 
eyes  fixed  on  Dolores  all  the  time.] 

DoLOREfe.  That  is  all;  his  Excellency  himself 
cannot  tell  you  of  a  single  other  thing 

Rafaele.     And,  of  course,  you  ask 

Dolores.  Madame,  I  ask  that  he  be  released  from 
prison  and  given  a  passport  from  his  Excellency 
— that  is  all! 

Rafaele.  You  are  right.  [The  Duke  starts.] 
Father,  Madame  is  just  and  reasonable.  It  is  very 
kind  of  you,  Madame,  to  do  that  for  him.  Are  you  a 
friend  of  his? 

Dolores.     Yes,  Senora,  he  is  my  lover! 

Rafaele.  Good!  He  deserves  to  be  loved.  I 
think  a  great  deal  of  him,  too.  Now,  Madame,  that 
two  of  us  are  on  his  side,  we  shall  be  stronger. 

Dolores.  My  God!  1  hope  your  father  will 
listen! 

Rafaele  [rising].  See  how  easily  he  will  be  in- 
fluenced! Father,  Monsieur  de  Vargas  will  release 
our  Captain,  will  he  not?  This  is  a  small  matter  to 
you 

Alba  [ironically].     Ali,  yes,  indeed! 
I  101  1 


PATRIE 

Rafaele  [quickly].     Did  you  say  yes? 

Alba.    No,  I  say — no! 

Rafaele  [anxiously].  Then  I  have  not  been  told 
the  truth!     jNladanie,  tell  nie  the  whole  truth! 

Alba  [quickly  coming  between  the  two  women].  She 
shall  say  nothing  more,  as  there  is  nothing  more  to 
say. 

Dolores.     Nothing,  indeed! 

Rafaele  [wrought  up].  Then  you  refuse?  Father, 
you  are  very  cruel! 

Alba.     Rafaele ! 

Rafaele.  I  was  so  happy!  And  now — oh,  the 
day  began  so  beautifully!  [She  falls  into  a  chair. 
Alberti  goes  to  her.] 

Alba  [in  desperation,  as  he  kneels  at  his  daughters 
feet].  My  dear  girl!  Matt  re  Alberti!  [To  Dolores, 
his  voice  choked.]     You  fiend! 

Dolores  [braving  him,  as  she  leans  over  him,  in  an 
undertone].     I  use  what  weapons  I  can  find! 

Alba  [to  his  daughter].     Rafaele,  my  dearest! 

Rafaele  [coughing].     I  was  so  well!     My  God! 

Alba.     You  will  feel  better  at  once,  my  treasure! 

Rafaele  [with  ienderness].  If  you  will  only  do 
what  I  asked 

Alba.     Anything ! 

I  1(52  1 


PATRIE 

Kafaele  [half  rising].  Truly?  Do  you  mean  it 
this  time? 

Alba.    Yes. 

Rafaele.     Is  he  free? 

Alba.    Yes. 

Rafaele.     Will  you  swear  it? 

Alba.     On  your  life! 

Rafaele  [she  rises,  goes  to  the  table,  takes  a  pen  and 
offers  it  to  the  Duke].  Write  it  at  once!  At  once! 
Here! 

[Alba  rises,  takes  the  pen,  and  writes  as  lie 
stands.] 

Dolores  [falling  on  her  knees  before  Rafaele]. 
Ah,  Sefiora,  may  God  recompense  you!  Thank  you, 
with  all  my  heart! 

Rafaele.     Are  you  cr^^ing  for  so  small  a  matter? 

Dolores  [quickly].     You  seem  to  be  suffering  so! 

Rafaele  [ichispering  in  her  ear].  I  seemed  a  Httle 
worse  than  I  was! 

Dolores  [kissing  her  hands].     You  angel! 

Rafaele.  Slih !  [Rafaele  returns  to  the  l^t,  where, 
during  the  following,  the  icomen  give  her  her  mantle.] 

Alba  [to  Vargas].  Vargas,  here  is  an  order  re- 
leasing Captain  Karloo.  Give  him  a  passport  to 
Lille. 

f  163] 


PATRIE 

Dolores.     Oh,  Monseigiieur ! 

Alba  [going  to  Dolores,  above  the  table,  and  saying 
to  her  in  an  7indertone\.  Do  not  thank  nie,  Madame, 
for  a  favor  which  you  have  forced  from  me,  but 
thank  heaven  for  it!  You  have  until  this  evemng, 
you  and  he,  to  leave  the  city!  [Indicating  the  table.] 
Your  passport  is  there.  [He  returns  to  his  daughter.] 
Now,  Rafaele,  come  while  I  put  you  in  your  carriage 
myself. 

Rafaele  [to  Dolores].  Adieu,  Madame.  [To 
the  Duke.]  See  how  easy  it  is  to  be  good?  Ah,  if  you 
would  only   listen  to  me!     If  I   were   always   with 


you 


[They  go  out,  left. 

Dolores  [taking  her  passport  from  the  table].  Now 
threaten  if  you  like — he  is  saved!  [To  Vargas.] 
Monsieur,  may  I  see 

Vargas.  Captain  Karloo?  No,  Madame;  you  will 
find  him  at  the  gates. 

Dolores.  Very  well!  [As  she  is  about  to  leave  by 
the  alcove  at  the  left,  she  stops.]  \Vho  are  those  men 
passing  by  over  there? 

Vargas  [looking].  The  prisoners  coming  from  the 
court.     They  are  being  taken  back  to  their  prison. 

Dolores  [iirith  an  exclamation  of  terror].  I  don't 
f  164] 


PATRIE 

want  to  see  them!  [She  comes  down-stage  and  crosses 
toward  the  door  at  the  right.] 

Vargas.  Not  that  way,  Madame;  that  is  the  tor- 
ture chamber! 

Dolores  [stepping  hack  in  terror].     Oh! 

Vargas  [pointing  to  the  alcove  to  the  right].  This 
side,  please! 

Dolores.  Oh,  yes — I  want  to  go!  [She  stops 
short  and  looks  at  Vargas.]  Who  is  that  man  coming 
in.' 

Vargas.    The  Comte  de  Rysoor. 

Dolores  [terrified,  she  comes  down-stage  and  crosses 
to  the  left].  I  don't  want  to  see  him.  Monsieur! 
Monsieur,  I  am  so  afraid — let  me  go.  Monsieur,  1 
7nust  not  see  that  man!  I  shall  always  see  him  in 
my  dreams!  He's  coming!  [Desperately.]  Can't  I 
leave  this  horrible  house? 

Vargas  [indicating  the  door  to  the  right].  That 
way,  Madame;  only  do  not  cross  the  Duke's  path! 

Dolores.     The   Duke — hangdog — devil!     I    am 

willing  to  meet  him,  to  pass  through  hell — everytliing 

— only  I  must  not  meet  that  man!     My  God,  not  him ! 

[She  goes  out  at  the  left,  as  RI^xox  enters.    He 

is  followed  by  soldiers,  who  stand  back  in  the 

alcove,  and  Rysoor,  to  whom  he  first  beckoJis.] 

f  165  1 


PATRIE 

Rysoor.  Where  are  you  leading  me,  Captain,  and 
why  am  I  separated  from  the  others? 

RiNCON.  Because  they  are  aheady  disposed  of. 
Monsieur,  and — I  am  really  sorry  to  say — ^j^ou  are 
not. 

Rys.  And  what  can  possibly  await  me  between 
the  court  and  the  stake? 

RixcoN.  Alas,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  that  room 
over  there:  the  examination  chamber. 

Rys.  Torture — ah,  yes,  I  had  forgotten — the 
Duke  of  Alba 

RiNCON.  If  what  1  have  been  told  is  true,  1  ad- 
vise you  to  summon  up  all  your  courage ! 

Rys.     Do  they  hope  they  can  force  me  to  speak? 

RmcoN.     They  are  sure. 

Rys.  [after  a  pause].  God  knows  I  am  not  afraid 
to  suffer!  Pain  and  I  are  too  good  friends!  But 
who  can  be  sure  that  liis  body  will  not  be  weaker 
than  his  spirit?  Possibly  these  tortures  will  wrest 
some  cry,  some  confession,  from  me.  Some  name? 
Ah,  Monsieur,  the  thought  that  suffering  might 
make  me  betray  a  friend — that  is  my  torture! 

RiNCON  [in  an  undertone].  Then  you  would  pre- 
fer of  your  own  free  will 

Rys.     God!   if  I  could  kill  myself. 
[  166  1 


TATRIE 

RiNCOX.  Then  follow  my  advice:  your  lordship 
must  not  utter  a  sound  nor  move  a  single  hair — we 
are  being  watched!  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  la  Tre- 
raoille  has  arranged  for  this  contingency. 

Rys.   [hoy^idly].     All! 

RixcoN.  I  shall  escort  you  to  the  examination 
chamber.  Now  in  the  hallway,  which  is  rather  dark, 
extend  your  hand  in  my  direction 

Rys.  [suddenly  grasping  his  hand].  Ah!  Captain — 
thanks !    For  you  and  for  him ! 

RiNCON  [aloud].  Perhaps  your  lordship  would  like 
a  priest? 

Rys.     No,  Captain,  no!    God  alone  is  sufficient! 
[Karloo  enters  through  the  alcove  to  the  left, 
followed  by  IVIiguel  and  two  soldiers.     Na- 
VAERA  also  comes  in.] 

Rys.  [seeing  Kaeloo].  Karloo!  [Aside  to  Rrx- 
CON,  as  he  says,  'pointing  to  the  chamber  of  torture,  ter- 
rified.]    He,  too? 

Vargas  enters  from  the  Duke's  apartments. 

Vargas  [to  the  officers].  Messieurs,  Captain  Kar- 
loo is  free. 

Rys.  [joyfully].     Free? 

Karloo.     I?     [To  Vargas,  as  he  comes  quickly 
doicn-stage.]     And  why  am  /  free,  and  not  Monsieur? 
[  107  1 


PATRIE 

Vargas.  His  Excellency,  Monsieur,  has  deigned 
to  grant  you  a  pardon. 

Kv^LOO.     But  I  do  not  deign  to  accept  it. 

Vargas.     Monsieur! 

Kajbloo.  By  what  right  am  I  offered  the  insult 
of  his  mercy — mercy  which  I  have  not  asked 
for? 

Vargas.     It  was  a  request  of  Dona  Rafaele 

Karloo.     Not  mine! 

Vargas.     It  is  the  Duke's  pleasure! 

Karloo.  But  not  my  pleasure.  I  conspired,  I 
fought,  struggled  with  all  my  friends.  The  same  con- 
spiracy should  lead  to  the  same  punishment:  the 
scaffold!  It  is  my  right,  and  I  demand  it.  I  deny 
the  Duke  the  right  to  impose  upon  me  the  torture  of 
his  pity! 

Vargas.     Ali,  Monsieur! 

IC\RLOO.  Come,  Monsieur,  I  demand  my  scaf- 
fold, my  stake,  of  which  I  am  proud!  I  want  no 
pity  from  you:  it  is  an  insult!  Go  to  your  Duke, 
Monsieur,  and  tell  him  that  I  wish  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  his  pardon! 

Vargas  [giving  the  passport  to  Miguel].  You  will 
tell  him  in  person.  Monsieur;  I  can  only  execute  the 
orders  which  are  given  me. 

[168] 


PATRIE 

[lie  goes  out,  left.  Miguel  joina  Rincon  at 
the  back,  by  the  entrance  of  the  alcove  at  the 
right.  Kysoor  and  EL\rloo  stand  alone 
before  the  table.] 

Karloo.     Very  well,  where  is  he? 

Rys.  [ititercepting  Karloo].  Are  you  going  to  do 
that? 

Karloo.     Without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

Rys.  [retaining  him].     Karloo! 

Karloo.     Would  you  prevent  me? 

Rys.     Great  God,  yes,  I! 

KjVRLOO.     Rysoor,  let  me  go! 

Rys.     Stay  here,  I  say! 

Karloo.  In  the  name  of  heaven,  lei  inc  die!  Let 
the  executioner  avenge  you! 

Rys.  But  what  if  I  do  not  wisli  to  be  a^•enged 
by  the  executioner?  [Good-humor edly.]  How  unfor- 
tunate for  you,  poor  man,  if  I  do  not! 

Karloo.  Can  I  accept  your  forgiveness  with- 
out having  deserved  it?     No,  I  say! 

Rys.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  give  me  the  right 
to  administer  forgiveness,  and  if,  as  you  say,  your 
crime  has  given  me  the  right  to  dispose  of  your 
life 

Karloo.     Of  course  it  has! 
1  169  1 


PATRIE 

Rys.  Very  well,  I  am  now  disposing  of  it!  I  am 
not  asking  you  to  li\^e:  I  command  you! 

Karloo.  Ah,  Rysoor,  I  prefer  your  anger  to  this 
goodness,  which  is  too  much  for  me. 

Rys.  Karloo,  I  shall  die  soon.  The  miseries  and 
mad  passions  of  this  earth  seem  like  floating  mists 
about  to  vanish  as  in  a  dream.  Allow  me  this  last  hap- 
piness :  to  forget  and  forgi^'e !  Allow  me  to  die  with- 
out having  lost  faith  in  everything!  Let  the  last  hand 
I  grasp  be  that  of  a  friend — a  hand  that  is  the  dearest 
to  me  because  1  had  thought  it  the  hand  of  a  lost 
friend.  Let  me  find  that  friend  again — cleansed  and 
purified  by  tears  and  repentance! 

Karloo  [pressing  and  kissing  Rysoor's  hands]. 
My  God,  yes! 

Rys.  Live,  Karloo.  live — obey  me!  But  above 
all,  live  in  order  to  serve  our  sacred  cause!  Now, 
more  than  ever  before,  it  has  need  of  your  devotion. 
Let  your  Patrie  henceforward  be  your  only  love.  She, 
Karloo,  knows  no  deceits.  She  is  an  idol  who  will 
always  be  great  and  inspiring.  Her  cult  is  so  pure 
tiiat  it  can  reconcile  to  a  single  faith  two  men  so  dif- 
ferent as  you  and  I,  separated  by  a  mortal  hatred. 
You  are  still  young,  and  will  see  our  beloved  Flan- 
ders a  free  land!  Karloo,  the  day  the  flag  of  inde- 
I  170] 


PATRIE 

pendence  floats  above  our  ramparts,  remember 
the  old  friend  who  fought  at  your  side,  and  my 
spirit  will  bless  you  as  joj^ully  as  it  now  forgives 
you! 

Karloo.  Oh,  Rysoor,  your  forgiveness  must  not 
end  with  me;   forgive  her,  too! 

Rys.  Her?  [Interrupting  himself.]  No!  I  can- 
not do  that!  [Forcefully.]  No,  I  cannot  forgive 
her!  I  am  not  so  far  detached  from  himianity  that 
I  can  smother  an  aw^ul  desire  for  revenge! 

Karloo.    You! 

Rys.  It  does  not  concern  me  alone!  This  time 
not  I  alone  have  been  injured;  but  the  whole  people. 
She — no,  I  hardly  believe  God  Himself  would  ask 
me  to  forget  that! 

Karloo.     Tell  me ! 

Rys.  [lowering  his  voice  in  order  not  to  be  overheard 
by  the  soldiers].  Karloo,  we  have  been  betrayed! 
There  is  one  who  is  accursed  among  us,  one  who  sur- 
prised our  secrets  and  sold  us! 

K.^RLOO.     Ah,  otherwise 

Rys.     We  do  not  know  who  it  is!     Ignorant  as  we 

are,  to-morrow  perhaps  he  will  renew  his  work;   our 

most  carefully  thought-out  plans  may  be  in  vain, 

and  our  best  blood  be  shed,  a  whole  people  die  in 

[1711 


PATRIE 

agony  and  terror,  because  there  is  one  fiend  in  our 
uiidst  unpunished ! 

Karloo.     And  you  wish 

Rys.  I  wish Listen :  this  is  my  last  will,  Kar- 
loo, I  bequeath  to  you  a  sacred  duty 

Karloo.     Yes? 

Rys.  This  traitor  to  his  country,  this  dealer  in 
our  blood — find  liim,  Karloo,  find  him!  When  you 
have  him — no  matter  what  his  name  or  rank — crush 
him,  have  no  pity  for  liim.  It  will  not  be  murder, 
but  legitimate  defence!  Common  justice!  You  will 
be  defending  not  only  your  Patrie,  which  has  been 
sold  and  crucified  by  him:  you  will  be  saving  Her. 
So  strike  hard,  my  son,  strike! 

Karloo.     On  my  soul,  I  swear! 

Rys.     Take  care!  it  is  a  sacred  oath! 

Karloo.     I  swear! 

Rys.     No  matter  who  the  person  may  be? 

Karloo.  On  my  hope  of  salvation — if  I  had  to 
strike  at  my  own  fireside,  at  the  foot  of  the  altar!  I 
have  sworn  to  pierce  his  traitorous  heart — with  this 
hand! 

Rys.  Then  you  see  how  wise  I  was  to  save  your 
life!     It  is  saved  for  a  purpose! 

[The  door  at  the  right  opens  and  Noircarmes 
[  172  1 


PATRIE 

appears  on  the  threshold,  a^  well  as  the  clerk 
and  the  court.] 

Karloo  [nervously].     Are  they  coming? 

Rys.  [seeing  Rixcox,  who  is  coming  down-stage]. 
Yes— I  know  what  they  want! 

Kakloo.     ^Yhat? 

Rys.  [smiling  to  reassure  Karloo].  It  appears 
that  Monsieur  le  Due  wishes  to — question  me! 

K.\RLOO.  You  will  return  this  way.  I  shall  see 
you  later! 

Rys.  [his  voice  choked  with  emotion  as  he  takes 
K.\RLOo's  hand].  Surely!  Now,  Karloo,  my  son, 
let  us  separate! 

Karloo  [apprehensively].     I  want  to  wait  for  you! 

Rys.  Don't  stay  here — it  might  be  dangerous. 
Remember,  your  Ufe  does  not  belong  to  you!  Think 
of  what  you  have  promised! 

Karloo  [still  nervous].  It  seems  as  if  you  were 
saying  good-bye  for  the  last  time! 

Rys.  [smiling].  Oh,  no,  indeed  not!  I  firmly  hope 
to  see  you  again. 

RiNCON  [coming  down-stage].       Ready,  Monsieur! 

Rys.  I  am  ready.  Captain!  [To  Karloo,  from 
the  top  of  the  steps.]  Remember  your  oath,  Karloo! 
Remember ! 

[173  1 


PATRIE 

[NoiRCARMES  reenters.  Rysoor  and  Rincon 
disappear  from  the  same  side.  The  door  is 
closed  after  them.     The  Ensign  appears.] 

Karloo  [folloioing  them  with  his  eyes].  The  way 
he  spoke  to  me!  What  can  the  Duke  want  with 
him?  Where  are  they  taking  him?  [He  starts  to 
mount  the  staircase.] 

Miguel  [stopping  him].  Careful,  Monsieur,  you 
must  not  go  that  way! 

Karloo.     Very  well,  Monsieur,  I  shall  wait! 

IVIiGUEL.  You  may  not  wait  here,  either,  Mon- 
sieur; you  must  go  at  once,  please.  Here  is  your 
passport. 

Karloo  [taking  the  passport].  Please,  Monsieur, 
I  wish  to  wait  until  he  comes  out. 

Miguel.     Your  friend?     That  may  be  a  long  time! 

Karloo  [uneasily].     You  think  so? 

Miguel.     Surely— he  is  being  questioned. 

Karloo  [in  terror].  Questioned?  Saints  of  heaven! 
He  lied  to  me,  and  I  did  not  understand!  What  a 
fool  I  was!  I  must  see  him!  [He  dashes  forward, 
but  officers  bar  his  ivay.] 

Miguel.  You  are  mad.  Monsieur;  you  cannot 
go  in  there! 

Karloo  [desperate,  as  he  struggles  with  the  soldiers, 
[174] 


PATRIE 

irJto  thrust  him  down-stage,  left,  hehmd  the  tahlc  just 
beyond  the  fireplace].  Let  inc  go!  I  must  see  hiin 
once  more! 

Miguel  [who,  together  ivith  the  others,  holds  Karloo 
fast].     I  tell  you,  Monsieur,  you  cannot  go  there! 

[The  door  of  the  torture  chamber  opens,   and 
NomcARMES  appears.] 

Karloo  [hopefully].     They  are  coming  back! 

Vargas   [reentering  from   the  Duke's   apartments]. 
Well,  Noircarmes? 

Noircarmes.     It  is  over. 

Karloo  [joyfully].     Already! 

Vargas.     Did  he  confess? 

NoiR.    [shrugging    his    shoulders].     He    said    one 
word:  "Patrie !  "  then  he  died! 

Karloo.     Dead ! 

Vargas  [to  Noircarmes].     What?    Dead? 

Noir.     On   the   threshold — he   did   it   with   this 
dagger.     [He  throws  a  dagger  on  to  the  table.] 

Karloo  [sobbing  brokenly].      My  God!     My  God! 

Noir.    [to    the    officers].     Really,    Messieurs,    you 
should  search  your  prisoners  with  greater  care! 

Vargas.     Come  to  his  Excellency! 

Karloo  [pale  and  calm,  going  to  the  table].    Mes- 
sieurs, do  you  wish  to  keep  this  dagger? 
[175] 


PATRIE 

NoiR.    [surprised,   as  he  looks   at   Karloo].     No, 
Monsieur,  no. 

Karloo.     Then  will  you  allow  me  to  keep  it? 
NoiR.     As  you  like,  [They  go  out  at  the  left. 

Karloo.     Thank  you! 

[He  takes  the  dagger  and  goes  out  quickly,  at 
the  right.  The  soldiers  look  at  him  wonder- 
ingly.] 

Scene  II:  A  square  in  the  city.  At  the  back  of  the 
stage,  a  flight  of  stairs,  ivith  a  railing,  rises  at  an 
oblique  angle  to  the  left,  toicard  the  higher  part  of  the 
city,  the  roofs  of  which  are  seen,  covered  2mth  half- 
melted  snow,  rising  one  above  the  other.  This  flight 
of  stairs  passes  under  the  fortified  gate,  then  turns 
and  loses  itself  from  view  toward  the  right,  in  the 
direction  of  the  church  of  Sainte-Gudule,  the  two 
towers  of  which  can  be  seen  above  the  roofs.  To  the 
right  and  left  is  a  .street;  down-stage  to  the  left  is  a 
small  shop  facing  the  stage.  The  interior  can  be 
seen  only  from  the  stage  boxes.  It  is  daytime. 
Drums  are  heard  in  the  distance,  beating  a  call  to 
arms.  Merchants,  burghers,  workmen,  women,  and 
children  are  conversing  in  undertones,  as  they  walk 
back  and  forth  down-stage;  they  accost  one  another 
f  1 70  1 


PATRIE 

as  if  in  mortal  terror  of  something.  Soldicra  come 
and  go,  singly  and  in  patrols.  A  breiver,  an  inn- 
keeper, and  several  women  of  the  street  may  he  dis- 
tinguished, then  Miguel  and  Rincon. 

A  Woman  [to  another  woman,  in  an  undertone]. 
The  call  to  arras ! 

Innkeeper  [also  in  an  undertone].  Yes,  they  will 
come  this  way! 

A  Woman  Shopkeeper  [icho  is  silting  on  a  chair 
doum-stage  to  the  left,  in  front  of  her  shop].  Have  you 
been  to  see  the  Place  du  Marche? 

A  Voice.     No. 

Woman  Shopkeeper.  A  great  heap  of  faggots, 
covered  with  black — it  gives  you  goose-flesh  to  look 
at  it! 

Brewer.  And  those  cannons  all  around,  block- 
ing every  street! 

A  Workman  [coming  fonvard].  Every  gate  of  the 
city  is  closed,  you  know,  until  after  the  execution! 

Brewer.  They  had  to  do  that,  to  raise  the  prices 
— with  this  new  tax  of  theirs! 

Woman  Shopkeeper.  You  '11  see  how  bad  busi- 
ness will  be — worse,  if  possible,  than  before. 

Brewer.  Of  course!  You  see  the  result  of  all 
[  177  ] 


PATRIE 

these  attempts !    Have  to  pull  our  belts  tighter !     We 
ought  to  turn  our  backs  until  it's  all  over! 

[Elder   Karloo   alone,   quickly,   at   the   right. 

Every  one  stops  as  he  appears,  and  those  who 

were  speaking  point  at  him.     La  Tremoille 

enters  behind  Karloo,  booted  and  spurred, 

ready  to  leave  the  city.     He  plants  himself  in 

front  of  Karloo,  then  stops  him  as  he  is 

about  to  make  his  way  toward  the  left.] 

La  Tr.     Captain,  I  have  followed  you  from  the 

Palace!     Forgive  me  if  I  speak  to  you  as  if  I  were  a 

friend.     Where  are  you  going?     You  look  so  pale, 

so  hurried.     Take  my  advice,  and  do  not  go  in  that 

direction ! 

Karloo.  Thank  you.  Monsieur,  but  this  way  I 
must  go :  to  the  Grande-Place,  where  I  have  some  one 
to  see. 

La  Tr.  [quickly].  You  will  see  only  a  most  hideous 
spectacle!  Please,  Captain,  let  us  wait  in  this  de- 
serted street  until  the  gates  are  opened  again !    I  have 

two  good  horses  at  the  Porte  de  Flandre 

Karloo.     You  speak  as  if  you  were  a  friend  of 
twenty  years,  Monsieur,  and  I  am  heartily  thankful 
for  your  kindness.     But  I  really  cannot  accept  your 
offer.     The  Comte  de  Rysoor  is  dead! 
[  178] 


PATRIE 

La  Tr.     I  know! 

Karloo.    But  his  widow  does  not !    I  must  tell  her. 
After  that,  I  have  a  number  of  errands  to  do  in  the  city. 

La  Tr.     Captain,  I  am  very  sorry!    Adieu,  then! 

Karloo.     Adieu!     [He  starts  to  go  out  at  the  left. 
La  Tremoille  keeps  his  eyes  on  him.] 

Miguel  [stopping  Karloo].     Where  are  you  going, 
Monsieur? 

Karloo.     To  the  Grande-Place. 

Miguel.     Don't  go  there! 

Karloo.    Why  not? 

IVIiGUEL.     Not  until  the  prisoners  pass. 

La  Tr.  [to  Karloo,  who  returns].      Now  you  must 
stay  with  me! 

Karloo.     Yes,  I  must! 

[Excitement  and  cries  are  heard  to  the   right.] 

Enter  Alberti. 

A  Voice  [off-stage].     This  way!    This  way! 

Alberti  [who  has  entered  from  the  left,  goes  to  Rin- 
CON  and  Miguel,  who  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  square 
very  much  wrought  np].  IMessieurs — Captain — come 
and  help  me!  As  I  was  taking  his  Excellency's 
daughter  to  the  Convent  of  Groenendaal,  we  passed 
by  the  city  gates;  when  Dona  Rafaele  saw  the  men 
[170] 


PATRIE 

who  had  been  hanged,  she  was  so  terrified  that  she 
would  walk  back,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do!  Here 
she  is — in  this  street !  She  insists  on  returning  to  the 
Palace.  I  beg  you,  Captain,  conduct  us  there  by  a 
roundabout  route. 

[Drums  are  heard  in  the  distance.] 
RiNCON.     Very  well.  Monsieur.     Bring  your  chair 
here  at  once.      The  procession  has  already  left  the 
Palace. 

Alberti.     This  way,  Senora,  tliis  way! 

[Rafaele  enters  in  her  chair;  the  nun  sits  facing 
'   her.     She  is  followed  by  women  attendants  and 
two  pages.] 
Alberti.     Straight  ahead? 
RiNCON.     Straight  ahead,  but  quickly! 
Rafaele.     Wait!     [They  all  stop.] 
Alberti.     Wliy  are  you  stopping,  Senora?     Let 
us  go  on! 

Rafaele.  Not  yet!  First,  I  want  to  know  the 
meaning  of  all  these  crowds  and  soldiers  and  drums. 
What  is  happening  here,  Messieurs? 

RiNCON  [at  a  sign  from  Alberti].     Nothing  at  all, 
Senora — the  troops  are  being  reviewed. 
Rafaele.    Ah ! 

[Trumpets  are  heard  in  the  gateway l\ 
[  180  1 


PATRIE 

The  Herald  [appearing].  By  order  of  the  King 
our  master,  and  his  Excellency  the  Duke  of  Alba,  be 
it  known  to  the  people  of  this  city :  it  is  commanded 
that  you  all  kneel  in  silence  as  the  rebels  pass  this 
way — [mitrmun-  from  the  crowd] — on  pain  of  death. 
Glory  be  to  God  and  to  the  King! 

[The  Herald  retires  and  a  momerd  later  is  heard 
making  the  same  proclamation  in  the  distance] 

Rafaele  [nervously],     ^^Tiat  does  that  man  say? 

Alberti.  He  says,  Madame,  that  the  people 
should  make  way  for  the  troops  here. 

Rafaele.     But  he  spoke  of  rebels 

Alberti.  A  mistake — he  said  nothing  of  the 
sort!     Did  he.  Messieurs.'* 

La  Tr.     Nothing  at  all,  Senora. 

Alberti.     Now  let  us  proceed. 

Rafaele.     I  must  get  out. 

Alberti  .     Madame ! 

Rafaele.     I  want  to  walk! 

Alberti.     I  have  orders 

Rafaele.  To  take  orders  from  me.  Monsieur! 
I  wish  it,  do  you  understand?  [She  gets  out  of  her 
chair  with  considerable  effort,  aided  by  her  servants.] 

La  Tr.     Then  on  foot — if  your  Grace  so  wishes — 
will  you  honor  me  by  accepting  my  hand? 
[1811 


PATRIE 

[The  chair  is  taken  off  to  the  right  by  servants. 
La  Tremoille  offers  Rafaele  his  hand. 
The  city  hells  ring  the  death-knell  in  the  dis- 
tance.] 

Rafaele.  Yes,  on  foot.  [Catching  sight  of  Kar- 
Loo.]  Oh,  Captain!  It  is  you?  Good!  You  surely 
will  tell  me  what  is  happening? 

Karloo.  Only  what  has  been  told  you,  Madame: 
it  is  a  review. 

Rafaele.     But  those  bells? 

Karloo.  They  ring  on  all  occasions  presided  over 
by  Monseign'eur  le  Due. 

Rafaele.  But  these  terrified  faces  I  see  around 
me?    You  yourself?     You  are  so  pale ! 

Karloo.  Oh,  I  have  been  freed  from  prison, 
thanks  to  you.  And  I  am  like  the  rest  of  the  in- 
habitants of  this  city:  not  a  whit  too  gay! 

Rafaele  [very  anxious  and  nervous].  They  are 
hiding  something  from  me! 

Alberti.  Madame,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  let 
us  go!  In  a  few  moments  we  shall  be  unable  to  get 
through  this  crowd! 

All  [supplicating  her].     Sefiora! 

Rafaele.  Yes,  yes!  [Aside.]  They  are  all  lying! 
[Taking  a  little  child  by  the  hand  and  drawing  it  to  her.] 
[  182] 


PAIR  IE 

Come  here,  my  dear  child !     Are  you  here  to  see  the 
soldiers,  too? 

Child.     Yes,  Madame,  and  the  condemned  pris- 
oners.    They're  going  to  burn  them  in  the  Place 

Ratable  [with  a  piercing  cry].     Oh!     [She  falls  into 
the  arms  of  her  attendants.     The  child  is  taken  from  her.] 
Alberti.     That  wretched  child! 
Rafaele  [her  hand  on  her  breast].      How  horrible! 
This  everlasting  slaughter!     My  God,  what  I  am  suf- 
fering!   Take  me  away!     My  God! 

Karloo    [rnshing  forward    and    supporting     her]. 
Madame ! 

[The  chair  is  quickly  brought  to  her.] 
Rafaele.     My    God!     Give   me   air!     Air!     I'm 
choking!     Blood!     I'm  choking!     [She  is  made  to  sit 
down.] 

Karloo  [in  despair].     Madame,  in  the  name  of 

heaven My  dear,  dear  child! 

Woman  Shopkeeper  [crying].     Dear  angel! 

[Dona  Rafaele  is  surrounded.       The  ivomen 
are  especially  attentive.] 
Alberti  [bent  over  her].     My  God,  she's  dying! 
[Dona  Rafaele  rises,  supporting  herself  on  the 
two  women,  trying  to  breathe;    then  she  falls 
back  heavily  into  the  chair.] 
[183  1 


PATRIE 

Karloo.     Dead ! 

[The  word  is  repeated  in  whispers  and  under- 
tones by  those  immediately  about  her.     The 
men  take  off  their  hats.] 
Alberti.     Messieurs,   Messieurs,  not  a  word   to 
Monseigneur!      Let  me  have  time  to  prepare  him  for 
this  awful  news ! 

[Rafaele  is  carried  into  the  shop,  where  the 
ivomen  croicd  round  her  body,  crying.  They 
screen  her  from  the  audience  during  the  fol- 
lowing. The  drums,  ivhich  have  not  ceased 
to  beat,  sound  closer;  the  bells  ring  as  before.] 
La  Tr.  Divine  vengeance! 
Karloo.     And  that  angel  will  pray  for  him! 

[A  company  of  halberdiers  appears  in  the  gate- 
way, and  clears  the  ivay  of  people,  who  scatter 
to  the  right  and  left,  standing  behind  the 
ranlcs  of  soldiers.  After  the  halberdiers  comes 
the  procession,  which  marches  sloioly,  as  at  a 
funeral.  At  the  head  are  three  drummers  as- 
siduously beating  the  funeral  roll.  The  irhole 
procession  descends  the  stairs,  then  turns  to 
the  left,  reaching  the  stage,  and  finally  dis- 
appears into  the  street  on  the  same  side. 
After  the  drummers  come  the  Spanish  mtis- 
f  184  1 


PATRIE 

keteers  and  the  pikemen  in  armor.  Then 
trumpeters,  the  herald,  mace-bearers,  the  stand- 
ard-bearers of  the  Swiss  regiments,  Lombards, 
Portuguese,  Neapolitans,  Germans,  etc.  Then 
three  drummers  precede  the  lancemen,  who  enter, 
folloived  by  the  clerks  of  the  Court  of  Blood, 
judges,  and  provosts'  guards.  Noircarmes 
appears,  then  Vargas  arid  Delrio.  Finally, 
beneath  a  dais  borne  by  lackeys  bearing  his 
arms,  comes  the  Duke,  accompanied  by  his  pages 
and  the  attendants  of  his  house.  As  he  ar- 
rives under  the  gateway,  all  save  Karloo  and 
La  Tremoille  kneel;  they  stand  vyith  their 
backs  to  the  wall  at  the  right.  After  the  Duke  ap- 
pears, the  chanting  of  the  penitents  (their  heads 
in  cowls,  and  tvax  candles  in  hand,  marching  in 
two  lines,  at  some  distance  apart)  is  heard 
above  the  sound  of  the  drums  and  ringing  of  the 
bells.  These  are  under  the  gate  ichen  the  Duke 
arrives  at  the  centre  of  the  stage.  As  this  chant 
increases.  Dona  Rafaele's  attendants  give 
way  to  their  grief;  they  sob,  kneeling.  The 
Duke,  who  cannot  see  Rafaele's  body,  stops 
and  speaks  to  Vargas,  who  is  ahead  of 
him.] 

[185] 


PATRIE 

Alba.     Vargas,  why  are  those  women  crying?     I 
have  forbidden  that! 

[Vargas  boivs  and  goes  to  the  icoinen.  Alberti 
sliows  hint  Rafaele's  body,  stretched  out  on 
the  chair,  a  crucifix  on  her  breast.  Vargas, 
deeply  moved,  stands  stockstill,  and  takes  off 
his  hat.] 
Vargas.  Monseigneur,  there  is  some  one  dead  in 
this  house:  a  young  girl. 

[They  all  take  off  their  hats.] 
Alba  [the  thought  of  his  own  daughter  occurs  to  him, 
and  he  takes  off  his  hat].     A  young  girl!     God  is  ter- 
rible in  His  vengeance! 

Karloo  [aside].     He  is,  tyrant! 
Alba.     Let  them  weep,  Vargas,  let  them  mourn 
for  the  young  girl! 

[He  makes  a  sign  for  the  procession  to  advance. 
It  continues  as  before.  The  Swiss  Guards 
follow  the  Duke,  then  come  monks  wearing 
coivls,  and  chanting  the  "Dies  Ires."  The 
gray  monks  walk  sloivly.  Then  comes  a  monk 
dressed  in  white,  bearing  the  Spanish  crucifix. 
Black  monks  appear  carrying  candles.  Galena, 
Bakkerzeel,  and  Cornelis  e7iter,  hands 
bound,  each  escorted  by  a  soldier,  who  walks 
[186] 


PATRIE 

at  his  right.      Then  comes  MaItre  Charles 
ivith  his  assistants.      When  the  prisoners  ar- 
rive upon  the  stage,  to  the  left,  and  pass  near 
Karloo,  they  see  him  weeping.] 
Galena    [in  an  undertone,  as  he  advances  toward 
him].     Coward,  you  are  free!     We  are  about  to  die! 
Cornelis  [following  Galena].    How  much  did  you 
get  for  betraying  us,  traitor? 
Karloo.     Traitor?     I? 
Bakkerzeel.     Accursed  Judas! 
All  the  Prisoners.     Judas!     Judas! 
Karloo.    This  is  frightful !    You  accuse  me?    Me? 
Me? 

[The  procession  continues  during  the  follotcing. 

Next  come  the  Italian  musketeers  and  arqne- 

busiers,    then    the    regular    infantry,    under 

Miguel  and  Rincon;  these  close  the  column.] 

La   Tr.    [controlling   K.\rloo].     Monsieur,   I   beg 

you 

Karloo  [to  La  Tremoille].  But  this  is  liorriblc! 
It's  a  He!  It  was  not  I,  Monsieur!  I  swear  it  was 
not  I! 

La  Tr.  [quickly].     I  know  that — it  was  a  woman! 
K.\RLoo.     A  woman?     ^Miat  is  her  name?     ]Mon- 
sieur,  tell  me  her  name! 

[187  1 


I'ATIUE 

La  Tr.  I  do  not  know  that;  I  know  only  that  she 
came  to  Monsieur  le  Due  hist  night,  and  that  she  left 
the  Palace  this  morning  with  a  passport  to  Lille. 

Karloo.  That  is  at  least  a  clue — a  passport  for 
Lille! 

La  Tr.     Like  yours  and  mine! 
Karloo.     I  have  only  time  enough  to  run  to  the 
Grande-Place,  through  the  by-streets.     I  shall  meet 
you  at  the  Porte  de  Flandre — she  must  have  gone 
■  that  way.     Wait  for  me.  Monsieur,  wait  for  me! 
La  Tr.     Very  well,  Captain. 

Karloo.  Ah,  these  insults!  The  dead  man  re- 
minds me  of  my  oath!  Sleep  in  peace,  your  revenge 
is  about  to  be  accomi)lished ! 

[He  goes  upstage  to  the  left,  and  disappears  in 
the  direction  taken  hij  the  procession.  Then 
the  crouxl  covers  the  stage  again.  In  its  en- 
deavor to  follow  the  procession,  it  rushes  to 
the  stainvay,  knocking  aside  the  bystanders, 
and  finally  disappears  under  the  gateway, 
while  La  Tremoille  gives  a  last  look  at  the 
dead  girl.] 

Curtain. 

I  188  ] 


ACT  V 


ACT  V 

Scene  I:  Rysoor's  home;  the  same  scene  as  in 
Act  II.  The  tabouret  is  no  longer  before  the  table, 
and  the  chair  which  teas  to  the  right  of  the  table  is  note 
at  the  back  of  the  stage,  near  the  fireplace.  Dolores 
and  GuDULE  are  present. 

GuDULE  [standing  at  the  window,  tvhich  she  closes, 
friglitened].  Oh,  Madame,  the  crowd  is  overflowing 
the  Place!  And  the  soldiers  are  forming  ranks !  The 
church  is  wide  open;  all  the  priests  are  standing  at 
the  doors,  to  give  absolution  to  the  prisoners  who  arc 
coming. 

Dolores  [who  is  watching  for  Karloo.  She  stands 
ai  the  entrance  of  the  room].    Yes !    But  he  doesn't  come ! 

Gudule.  Madame,  dear  Madame,  we  can't  re- 
main here!  Even  the  ser\ants  have  left  the  house! 
Let  us  go  away!     Don't  look  at  the  horrible  scene! 

Dolores  [she  now  looks  for  Karloo  out  of  the  door 
which  is  down-stage].     Run  away  if  you  like,  / — well, 
if  I  don't  watch  for  him  here,  where  else  can  I? 
f  1911 


PATRIE 

GuDULE.     Oh,  Madame! 

Dolores  [bitterly,  as  she  goes  toward  the  right].  He 
is  not  coming!  He  has  been  free  for  an  hour!  He 
should  haxe  come  to  me  first,  but — no!  God  knows 
what  he  is  doing!  Where  can  he  be?  Does  he  think 
of  me? 

[Karloo  enters  precipitately  through  the  garden 
door.     The  moment  Gudule  sees  him  she  goes 
out   through   the  main   entrance,   which   she 
closes  behind  her.] 
Dolores  [seeing  Karloo].     It's  he  at  last!     [She 
rims  to  him.]      My  God!  it's  you!     At  last,  it's  you! 
[Karloo,  unthout  ansivering  her,  lays  his  cape 
and  Imt  on  the  table.] 
My  Karloo,  you  are  free — free  and  safe! 

Karloo  [standing  ivith  the  table  between  them,  and 
not  looking  at  her].     Dolores! 

Dolores.  What  if  they  were  bringing  you  with 
them,  there!  I  should  have  thrown  myself  from  this 
window ! 

Karloo  [disturbed].  Dolores,  what  are  you  say- 
ing?    And  at  this  time! 

Dolores.  Let  me  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you! 
I  have  suffered  so  much,  I  have  the  right  to  be  mad 
with  joy ! 

[  192] 


PATRIE 

Kaeloo.  No,  Dolores,  I  swear  you  haven't  that 
right ! 

Dolores,     But  if  I  have  you  again 

Karloo.     Your  husband  is  dead ! 

Dolores.    Ah ! 

Karloo.     He  killed  himself. 

Dolores  [sorrowfully].     Ah — God! 

Karloo.  Dead,  Dolores — that  is  what  I  had  to 
tell  you — [his  voice  trembling] — dead.  He  forgave 
us,  you  and  me! 

Dolores  [at  first  site  sobs,  then  says  joyfully].  Par- 
doned, both  of  us.''  Then  you  have  no  more  regret? 
Why  do  you  look  at  me  that  way? 

Karloo.  Are  you  sure  that  he  understood  this 
pardon  as  you  do?  He  said  that  we  must  separate 
— forever! 

Dolores.  Separate!  Then  do  I  w^ant  his  for- 
giveness?   This  is  not  forgiveness;  it  is  chastisement. 

Karloo.  Dolores,  this  is  blasphemy — ^he  is  now 
dead — your  husband!    Take  care! 

Dolores  [with  tenderness].  Did  you  accept  this 
pardon  on  those  conditions? 

KvRLOO.     I?     I  don't  know. 

Dolores.    You  don't  know? 

Karloo.  No;  I  came  here  with  a  fixed  deter- 
f  193  1 


PATRIE 

raiiiatioii;  ready  to  leave  you — but  the  moment  I  see 
you  my  head  is  turned — love,  duty,  crime,  virtue — 
it  all  seethes  and  is  confused!  I  am  not  sure  what  I 
want — I  don't  know.  [He  falls  into  a  chair  to  the 
right.] 

Dolores  [going  to  him  tenderly].  I  know;  you 
love  me — we  are  everything  to  each  other — that  is 
the  truth ! 

[Karloo  tries  to  close  her  lips.] 
Karloo,  our  awful  nightmare  is  now  at  an  end. 
Let  us  leave  this  house,  which  is  not  ours;  let  us 
escape  from  this  past  where  we  were  not  alone.  Let 
us  go  and  be  happy  and  free,  both  of  us.  Let  us  love 
somewhere  else. 

[The  dnuns  beat  the  funeral  march  in  the  dis- 
tance, which  sounds  nearer  and  nearer.] 

Karloo  [tremhling].     Listen! 

Dolores,     What.^ 

Karloo  [standing].  They  are  coming!  [He  goes 
quickly  to  the  tvindoiv  and  opens  it.] 

Dolores.  The  poor  wTctches — that  is  one  more 
reason — let  us  go! 

Karloo  [springing  hack  in  horror].  The  scaffold! 
There  it  is — and  the  faggots ! 

Dolores  [runs  forwards  and  stands  between  Karloo 
[  194  1 


PATRIE 

and  the  window,  which  she  closes].     What  difference 
does  tliat  make?     They  are  not  prepared  for  you  I 

Kaeloo.  No,  no — I  want  to  wait  for  them — see 
them ! 

Dolores  [forcing  him  to  come  down-stage  to  the 
right].     The  idea!     See  them?     ^Vhy? 

Karloo.  Do  you  know  what  they  shouted  to  me, 
just  no^-,  as  they  were  passing  through  the  streets? 
They  called  me  coward,  traitor,  Judas!  They  ac- 
cused me  of  betraying  them — me — think  of  it!  Me, 
Karloo !    [He  goes  iip-stage,  left,  above  the  sofa.] 

Dolores.     And  what  of  it? 

K.\RLoo.  Horrible!  To  be  accused  of  treason — 
and  by  them !  Now  they  are  about  to  die,  there,  at 
the  stake !  Their  last  words  will  be  to  curse  me !  [He 
again  goes  wp  to  the  7inndow.] 

Dolores  [intercepting  him,  then  taking  him  to  the  left]. 
Let  them  curse  you,  what  of  it?  Let  them  cry  out 
at  you — now,  come! 

Karloo  [with  his  eyes  on  the  Place,  in  spite  of 
Dolores].  But  not  to  know  that  wretch  who  has 
betrayed  us,  be  unable  to  carry  out  my  oath! 

Dolores.  My  God!  Not  go  away!  An  oath! 
Did  you  make  an  oath? 

Karloo.     On  my  hfe! 

[195  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores.  Leave  the  dead  in  peace,  and  remem- 
ber only  the  oaths  you  made  to  me.  They  are  the 
only  good  ones! 

EL-^RLOO.  I  have  sworn,  do  you  hear?  On  my 
hope  of  a  future  life! 

Dolores.     AVhat  did  you  swear? 

Karloo  [disengaging  himself  and  running  to  the 
window,  which  he  opens].  To  put  a  dagger  in  the  per- 
son who  betrayed  us! 

Dolores  [speechles.^  irifh  terror  at  first,  she  staggers 
back  to  the  table,  where  she  supports  herself  for  an  in- 
stant].    A  fine  promise — really!    How  necessary! 

Karloo  [standing  between  Dolores  and  the  win- 
dow].    I  swore! 

Dolores.  To  be  an  assassin,  in  order  to  please 
that  dead  man!  And  you  dare  admit  it — that  is 
fearful!  Horrible!  [She  rushes  to  him  and  forces  him 
to  come  down-stage  toward  the  left.] 

Karloo.     I  made  an  oath. 

Dolores.  You,  my  Karloo,  put  a  dagger  into 
some  one — nonsense !  That  would  be  sheer  madness ! 
Poor  Karloo,  don't  do  that!  You  have  been  be- 
trayed— very  well,  what  is  done  is  done!  Let  us  go 
away — I  won't  betray  you.  [She  has  gradually 
pushed  him  to  a  position  in  front  of  the  table.] 
[  196  ] 


PATRIE 

Karloo.  And  then  have  all  Brussels  say,  as  those 
poor  prisoners  did:  "There  is  the  man  who  betrayed 
us!"  And  then  drag  out  a  life  of  dishonor — no!  I 
must  prove  my  innocence,  and  I  will  write  it  with  the 
blood  of  the  guilty  one  on  the  flagstones  of  this  city ! 

Dolores  [standing  at  the  other  side  of  the  table].  You 
are  out  of  your  mind!  Where  is  the  guilty  one? 
Who  will  tell  you  who  he  is?     Wlio? 

Karloo.  I  have  already  been  told  that  it  is  a 
woman ! 

Dolores.  A  woman?  You  say  a  woman?  My 
God,  that  is  absurd — a  woman!  Do  women  meddle 
with  such  tilings?  And  you  believe  that?  Can  you 
really  think 

Karloo  [again  going  up-stage].  I  am  sure — the 
person  who  told  me 

Dolores    [again    barring    his    passage].     A    poor 
wretch  and  a  coward!      He  knows  nothing  about  it. 
So  you  believe  everything  that  is  told  you  now? 
[The  drums  are  heard  approaching.] 

Karloo.  There  they  are!  [He  clings  trembling 
to  the  table.] 

Dolores.     No,  not  yet!     Karloo,  Karloo  whom  I 
adore!     Don't  stay  here!    Don't!    You  cannot  stand 
it — only  listen  to  me — do  this  for  my  sake;  I   have 
1  197  1 


PATRIE 

been  willing  to  sacrifice  my  life  for  you — and  I  love 
you!    Do  you  love  nie?    Tell  me — yes  or  no? 

Karloo  [still  looking  out  of  the  ivindoiv].  O  God, 
yes!     And  I  have  promised  not  to! 

Dolores.  Then  come,  Karloo!  Don't  look! 
Think  of  it:  we  have  a  whole  lifetime  of  love  and 
happiness  before  us — [the  drums  sound  still  nearer] 
— there  is  no  one  to  stand  between  us  now!  [She 
cries  out  against  the  drums,  which  are  now  beating  very 

loudly.]     Stop  it,  you  cursed [The  drums  cease 

beating.]  It's  nothing,  you  see?  They  are  far  away 
now!  Don't  listen!  Come  with  me — just  a  step.' 
It's  all  o\er  now !     Now  we  are  free ! 

[The  drums  beat  louder  than  before.  There  is 
the  noise  of  great  e.vcitement  on  the  Place.  The 
music  from  an  organ  is  heard  -playing  until 
the  end  of  the  scene.] 

IC\RLOO.  All !  [He  leaves  Dolores'  side,  and  goes 
to  the  arched  windoic] 

Dolores  [in  despair,  as  she  comes  down  to  the  left  of 
the  table].  These  men!  This  is  how  they  love!  And 
we  sacrifice  ourselves 

Karloo  [sobbing,  as  he  steps  back  from  the  window]. 
You  are  right,  Dolores,  this  is  atrocious!     They  are 
now  standing  on  the  faggot  heap!     Bakkerzeel — and 
f  198  1 


PATRIE 

poor  Galena!  My  friends!  Oh,  I  can't  look!  I 
can't!  Take  me  away!  [He  staggers  down  as  far  as 
the  table.] 

Dolores  [triumphantly,  as  she  rims  to  open  the 
garden  door].     At  last! 

Karloo  [worn  out,  leans  upon  the  table,  and  says  in 
a  whisper,  while  his  eyes  are  always  turned  toward  the 
Place],     Let  us  leave  this  house — this  city! 

Dolores  [returning  to  him — also  in  a  whisper].  Yes 
— both  of  us! 

Karloo  [with  the  table  still  between  them].  To- 
gether! 

Dolores.     Together — yes — now,  come! 

Karloo.     But  can  we  leave  the  city? 

Dolores.     You  have  your  passport.'* 

Karloo.     Yes,  but  you? 

Dolores.     I  have  mine! 

Karloo  [trembling,  as  lie  still  clutches  the  edge  of  the 
table.     He  turns  suddenly  toward  her].     Yours? 

Dolores.     Like  yours — to  Lille. 

Karloo.     To  Lille? 

Dolores.     Yes. 

Karloo.     You? 

Dolores.     I  am  telling  you!     Come,  now! 

Karloo  [looking  wildly  at  her].  How  did  you  get  it? 
[199] 


PATRIE 

Dolores.     I  went  to  the  Palace  for  it. 

Karloo.     This  morning? 

Dolores.     Yes, 

Karloo  [siepping  back,  thunderstruck].  Great 
God !  how  horrible ! 

Dolores.     What  is  the  matter? 

Karloo.  This  woman — at  the  Duke's — this  morn- 
ing!    That  woman — at  the  Duke's — last  night! 

Dolores.     Last  night! 

Karloo.     It  is  she! 

Dolores.     No! 

Karloo.  It's  you!  It's  you!  You  have  be- 
trayed us !     You  miserable !     Dare  you  deny  that 

you  are  the  one? 

Dolores.     Ah,  Karloo! 

Karloo.  Leave  me — don't  touch  me!  [He  dis- 
engages himself  and  darts  toward  the  right,  where  he 
falls  into  a  chair.] 

Dolores.     Pity  me! 

Karloo.  God's  vengeance!  And  I  have  been 
looking  for  her!     And  here  she  is!     Wlio  else? 

Dolores  [who  has  fallen  to  the  floor].  All,  Karloo! 
Don't  curse  me!     Let  the  others  do  that — not  you! 

Karloo.     Fiend — traitress — coward — coward ! 

Dolores  [on  her  knees,  making  her  way  toward  him]. 
[200  1 


PATRIE 

You  don't  know  all,  my  Karloo.  He  wanted  to  kill 
you.  WTien  he  left  me  he  said:  "I  am  going  to  kill 
him!"  I  was  mad  with  terror — stark  mad — Karloo! 
I  swear  I  was  raving  mad!  I  only  tried  to  save  you 
— I  loved  you  so  much!  It  was  for  your  sake,  for 
you ! 

Kabloo  [taking  her  hands  in  his].  Your  love! 
Your  love  has  made  me  a  perjurer  and  a  traitor !  Your 
fatal  love  has  brought  these  poor  wretches  to  the 
scafPold,  and  a  whole  nation  to  its  ruin.  Your  love 
is  hellish,  deadly!  I  do  curse  you!  I  execrate,  I 
hate  you !     [He  ihroios  her  to  the  floor.] 

Dolores.     Ah,  Karloo,  you  are  kilHng  me ! 

Karloo.     No,  not  yet! 

Dolores.     ^Vhat  are  you  going  to  do? 

Karloo  [dragging  her  to  the  toindow].  Come  here, 
Madame!     First,  look  at  your  work! 

Dolores.     Pity  me! 

[The  windows  are  red  imth  the  reflected  light  of 
the  faggots.  Screams  and  murmurs  of  horror 
are  heard  from  tlie  Place.] 

Karloo.  Look  at  it!  Look  at  your  faggot  heap 
— it's  burning! 

Dolores.     Pity  me! 

Karloo.     Look — count  your  victims! 
I  ^201  I 


PATRIE 

Dolores.     Karloo — ungrateful 

Karloo  [raising  her  and  forcing  her  to  look].  You 
must  accustom  yourself  to  flames — ^you  must  have 
some  notion  of  what  hell  is  like — hell,  where  your  love 
is  dragging  us! 

Dolores.     Mercy ! 

Karloo.  Listen!  They  have  caught  sight  of 
me!     Listen  now,  listen! 

The  Prisoners.     Karloo — traitor!    Traitor! 

Karloo.     Do  you  hear? 

Dolores.     My  God! 

Karloo.  And  do  you  not  also  hear  the  dead  man 
crying  out:    "Remember  your  oath?" 

Dolores  [rising  in  terror].     No,  no 

Karloo.  "No  matter  who  the  guilty  one  may  be, 
strike,  have  no  mercy!" 

Dolores.     Karloo,  would  you  strike  me? 

Karloo  [drawing  the  dagger].     My  oath! 

Dolores  [wild  with  terror,  as  she  struggles  to  free 
Iierself].  With  your  own  hand — no!  You  wouldn't  do 
that!     Pity  me — I'm — afraid! 

Karloo  [losing  his  self-control].     I  have  sworn! 

Dolores.     No,  no — don't — leave  me! 

Karloo.  I  have  sworn,  I  have  sworn!  [He 
plunges  the  dagger  into  her.] 

[202  1 


PATRIE 

Dolores  [falling  to  the  floor] .     Oh ! 

[Karloo  throivs  his  dagger  down.] 
Now  go — you  have  killed  me.     And  I  loved  you  so! 
1  loved  you  so 

K^VRLOO  [nearly  out  of  his  mind].  And  I  have  killed 
you!     1!     I! 

Dolores.     At  least  you  can  join  me,  now!     Come! 

Karloo  [falling  to  his  knees  before  Iter,  an  inani- 
mate mass,  and  covering  her  vrith  kisses,  while  he  sobs]. 
I  will  come  with  you — I  am  so  miserable!  Dolores, 
my  sweetest  love!     O  God!     O  God! 

Dolores.     Come,  then 

Karloo  [standing].  Wait!  I  am  coming!  [He 
runs  to  the  window,  stands  in  it,  and  cries  out.]  Execu- 
tioner— [excitement  in  the  Place] — you  lack  one  man! 
Make  way  for  me  on  your  faggot  heap! 

Dolores  [rising  in  order  to  see  him].     Ah! 

Karloo  [to  Dolores,  his  voice  full  of  laving  tender- 
ness]. You  see?  I  am  coming,  I  am  coming!  [He 
goes  swiftly  from  the  room.     Dolores /a/Zs  dead.] 


CURTAIN. 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
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